Overwatch: Someday a Dreamer
by EhMattissimo
Summary: The Second Omnic Crisis has started, yet everything has changed since the first war. Talon is now a larger threat than ever, and without the backing of the U.N., can Overwatch hope to, once again, save humanity? Winston enlists the help of Tracer and Pharah to help him strengthen Overwatch anew. What both young women don't know, is that their lives are about to change forever...
1. I: Tracer

Tracer

It was a faint light, but a light all the same. It always brought her back. Back to reality. Back to life. Back in time. Back to a human being. It was her soul manifested; at least, it may as well have been. Thus, when the spunky Brit's eyes cracked open and she saw the familiar pale hue of her chronal accelerator resting on a nearby chair, a sense of comfort could be found.

She felt around the other side of the bed and noticed her heart sink. Emily hadn't stayed the night. She had work early the next day and didn't like disturbing Lena if she could help it no matter how much her girlfriend attempted to convince her otherwise.

The room felt bigger, despite the apartment being somewhat small and nestled away amongst hundreds of others in King's Row. Tracer rolled over and stared at the pastel ceiling, brushing some messy, brunette locks of hair from her wondering eyes. The restlessness always hit her hard at night. She could just barely make out some noise in the streets of her old stomping grounds. Was it another fight? Was it just a passionate conversation? Was it a pair of drunks?

Should she gear up and put a stop to it? No. She shouldn't. No matter how desperately she wanted to, Overwatch was disbanded for a reason…even if that reason made little sense to an idealist like Lena Oxton. Acting under the banner of Overwatch was literally against the law now, and every time Lena reminded herself of that, the pit in her stomach threatened to consume her.

It was nights like this one that she needed Emily more than ever. Overwatch gave her life such purpose and meaning. Now, she was forced to keep her head low and only work seldom as something of a freelance everyman. She couldn't live off her savings forever, and if she and Emily were to get serious, Tracer needed to pull her weight in the relationship as well.

It was tough.

Tracer had a taste of what it felt like to be – almost quite truthfully – a hero. She participated in the act of shutting down the various God Programs that wreaked havoc in the Omnic War. Not only that, but she had saved _so_ many people because of Overwatch's heroism. Why did it all have to fall apart? And why did this same dialogue run through Lena's brain even years after the fact? It felt like yesterday, but that was hardly the case.

Tracer turned again and huffed, reaching for her phone and preparing herself to send Emily a text. Such a simple act would be enough to calm her spirit some.

It's then that she saw it. A message from a dear, dear friend. Her savior. She owed him her life. It was as simple as that. Tracer sat up, pulling at her yellow short shorts and fixing her loose, white t-shirt. She blew at her troublesome hair and felt her consciousness snap awake as she tapped to open the attachment.

Winston began speaking, and as his speech went on, Tracer's pulse quickened, her breaths coming out in hisses of anticipation. This sort of night had happened so often Tracer wondered if she was dreaming. An ending with Winston contacting her had never occurred. The excited girl pinched herself as images of devastation across the globe flickered over her phone. Crazed omnics. Terrorist attacks. Suffering children and a screaming mother. The last one hit Lena hard. Goosebumps pervaded her body as she stood up, her legs buzzing as if remembering what she was capable of on the battlefield.

The message ended, and Tracer hit the call button immediately. The gruff, intelligent voice of the most incredible primate in the world answered.

"Hmm? T-Tracer? You're up?"

'I'm in, that's what I am.' Tracer heard herself speaking in the middle of the night, and she continued to fight against the idea this was all a dream. She didn't want to wake up.

"…Are you certain? We would be operating against the government, with no support whatsoever. It's not like it was. It wouldn't be safe. We would officially be criminals. A normal life wouldn't be possible in the foreseeable future."

This gave Lena some pause. She could only think of Emily. That was her only restriction. As much as she tried to hide it, she and Emily were somewhat known in King's Row. Lena's infamy proceeded her. She wasn't outwardly hated, fortunately, but there was _some_ level of hesitation by a few because of her previous status as an Overwatch agent.

Still…

'I know. I understand, Winston.' She thought she did, but then Tracer pictured her girlfriend's gorgeous red hair and her charming smile. She thought of the hot chocolate they would indulge in together and the long talks into the night. Was she truly willing to risk all that for a potentially hopeless endeavour?

'Can I ask a question though?' Tracer's voice softened, and that in and of itself was a rare occurrence.

"Go ahead."

'Is something really happening?'

It was purposely vague, but Lena knew Winston was more than capable of picking up on her meaning. He growled into the phone, a sigh she recognized all too well.

"…Yes. Without a doubt. It's the second coming, of that I am certain. Except this time, I suspect Talon will be even more active than ever before. I see the signs, but the U.N. refuses to acknowledge it just yet. By the time they do, it will be far too late."

'Those images you sent…they were all recent?'

"Too recent."

Tracer closed her eyes and pushed her free hand through her hair. She didn't have a choice. She was one of the few select individuals capable of fighting beyond the scope of a normal human's capabilities.

'Emily…'

"Yes. It would mean leaving her for a time. You _may_ be able to visit on the rare occasion, but I can't make any promises. If Overwatch was accepted as an official group, that would be one thing, but…"

'She might be in danger because of me. If the U.N. decides to play dirty, she could be used against us.'

"Precisely. I can, perhaps, manage to use an agent to act as an undercover bodyguard, but I can make no further promises."

'Right. Right.' Tracer rubbed her forehead. 'Oi. This is tough. I'm definitely in. I am. I have to be. But…'

"Lena…" Winston spoke sympathetically. "I foolishly sent this message late. I…had technical difficulties. It's sometimes more problematic to consider things clearly in the middle of the night. Think on it. Contact me tomorrow or even the day after."

'Every hour I hesitate more innocent people are in danger. I can't be selfish.'

"You're human, Tracer. I understand if you decide against it. I…I don't expect a positive reception to my plea."

'Winston…' Tracer sat back down and rubbed her eyes. She glanced to her chronal accelerator and back to the empty space in her bed. She nodded to herself, and steadied her tone. 'Okay. I'll get back to you tomorrow.'

"Good. Rest well, Lena."

'You too, big guy.'

"Thank-you for calling me."

'Heh. No problem. It was nice to hear your voice again.'

"Same. Um…back at you. I, well, yes. You know what I mean."

'Heheh! Bye, Winston.'

Silence. Tracer's phone returned to the home screen, where a shot of her and Emily tortured her. Tracer was kissing Emily on the cheek, and her slightly sheepish girlfriend was blushing so hard her adorable freckles were nearly hidden.

'Oh, boy. This is not going to be easy…'

But Tracer knew what she had to do, and come the next day, she would make the harsh decision that would shape the rest of her life for better or for worse.


	2. II: Pharah

Pharah

She could see precisely why the amazing doctor had chosen to assist in such a war-torn country. Iraq was almost in shambles compared to Egypt. The moment Fareeha stepped out of the arranged, dedicated aircraft, she could practically _feel_ how brutally compromised the terrain and, in effect, the people were thanks to the first Omnic Crisis. So many years had passed, yet little had changed. This poor country wasn't equipped whatsoever to contend with the God Program on top of its unstable presence within the world as a whole.

'Will you be alright from here on out, Ms. Amari?' The pilot was standing next to her, evidently as shocked by the state of the city as his passenger.

'Yes. I'll be fine. Thank-you.' Fareeha pulled at her suitcase, belying her slight hesitation. According to her mission, her objective was in a secluded hospital in the outskirts of Baghdad. Its existence was supposed to be something of a mystery, and Fareeha could only imagine why.

'Well, I'll be off for now, then. Contact me when you're ready. If I don't hear from you, the specified rendezvous point and time will be as stated prior.'

'Affirmative.'

'Be careful. Our resources and contacts got us in easily enough, but this is one of the most dangerous countries in the world right now. ISIS is bad enough, but if Talon is lurking around too, things can get messy real quick.'

Fareeha glanced at the man, his messy facial hair irritating her for some reason. He sounded like a coward as well. Perhaps the notion was what truly pinched at her nerves.

'That's where my training comes in, right?'

'All the training on the planet can't beat numbers, I'm afraid. Your mother was the best shot in the world, and…'

'Excuse me?' Fareeha's sharp eyes flashed, her patience shattered in one fell swoop.

The pilot knew his error immediately, and he stammered out an apology, scratching the back of his neck.

'I-I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.'

'It was.' The curt Egyptian agreed, pushing forward in an attempt to still the anger boiling in her gut.

'Good luck.' The man endeavoured to soften the edge in the conversation, but Fareeha was already forgetting about him. She didn't even recall his name. Too many details in such a little amount of time.

* * *

 _"Fareeha Amari?"_

 _The voice hit something in her memory banks. She could never have placed it exactly, but she knew the sound somehow._

 _'Who is this?'_

 _"Oh, my. You_ do _sound similar to her."_

 _'Is this a prank?'_

 _"No! No. Not at all. Are you alone?"_

 _'That isn't any of your business.'_

 _"Hm! Cautious. Very good."_

 _'I'm hanging up now. I'm also reporting this number.'_

 _"Wait! It's Winston!"_

 _She knew the name, and in that moment, the connections were made. Her childhood erupted. The old idolization burst into her chest and her eyes burned with emotions she actively worked to keep in check at all times._

 _'Winston…?_ The _Winston? How…? But why…?'_

 _"Heheh. You're Ana's daughter, aren't you?"_

 _'…Yes.'_

 _"That's partially why. The other parts are your location and your admirable credentials. Any relative of Ana is an individual I know I can trust."_

 _It was flattering despite her neck feeling as though it was being throttled. Mention of her mother always made Fareeha bitter. It was so difficult to control even after so much time had passed._

 _'Why did you call me?' Fareeha could only ask, staring out her tiny apartment's window into the darkness of her fair city. She could see her reflection. Her raven hair was damp with sweat from work still, and her dark skin gleamed with a shimmer of moisture. The tattoo around her right eye seemed more prominent, and her strong gaze was blurring for some reason._

 _"Because I can hesitate no longer. I am recalling Overwatch, and I need your help to assemble its key members once again."_

 _'You…want me to join Overwatch?'_

 _"If you would be willing, yes. You would be an undeniable asset, I am sure."_

 _Fareeha knelt down, her black tank top riding up her back and her tight shorts stretching over her muscular legs. At thirty-two she had given up on her dreams. So, why now? Why when she thought she had buried the hatchet? The emotions swirling through her hardened mind were overwhelming her. All she knew was that her answer was simple enough for now. The if, when, how, why, where, who, and what of it all could wait. Uncharacteristically, Fareeha threw caution to the wind._

 _'What do you need me to do, Winston?'_

* * *

As Fareeha moved through Baghdad, the rashness of her decision continued to sink in. She checked her phone, thanking the Gods that there was some form of reception, if shaky at its very best. She reviewed the details of her mission, and easily circumnavigated the map provided. As someone who had trained rigorously in the army, this was all simple enough to work with.

She was an Overwatch agent now. Winston had given her all the risks and she accepted the terms regardless. Her first mission was paramount to Overwatch's success. She felt the burden of everything at once. Fareeha's broad shoulders buckled, but her resolve wouldn't be shaken.

' _Spare some change? Just a tiny bit. Enough for a drink_.' A man asked in his native tongue. Fareeha could assume what he wanted, but she had no choice but to ignore his begging. She couldn't draw attention to herself, and she didn't have enough for all the others that lurked every which way. Her heart broke, but she had been trained to mitigate the damage enough to maintain functionality.

The buildings became more decrepit as she neared the location dictated in her instructions. More homeless and beggars. More families huddled together in a bundle. More scrap metal and remains of omnics. A forgotten piece of the city. The country. The world.

Fareeha bit at the inside of her mouth and blinked for a second longer than necessary. This was more difficult than she imagined. Still so soft. Too soft. Her mother would have never been so affected on a mission.

The hospital came into sight. At least, Fareeha assumed it was the "hospital". In truth, it was just a building that was slightly less destroyed than the others. Nonetheless, the volume of people had increased exponentially, and when a man rushed past Fareeha with a body in tow, the newest member of Overwatch knew she was in the right place. Considering the number of individuals present, however, the level of noise was minor, only hushed whispering occurring, flexing briefly when Fareeha stepped up to the building. Two somewhat larger men stared her down, both of them equipped with guns and a dirty, powerful scowl that would frighten most.

Fareeha wasn't like most.

'I'm here to see the doctor.'

The larger and hairier of the two men nodded at Fareeha's suitcase.

'Full check.' He stated quite clearly.

Fareeha released her baggage and passed the men her own handgun that she carried at her side before lifting her arms. Both guards went to work, seeming thankful that she was being so co-operative. They were very thorough; uncomfortably so. She understood their purpose, but her body couldn't help but tense up.

'Clear.'

'Dr. Ziegler is very busy. Urgent?'

'No. I just need to speak with her.'

Fareeha waited for the men to converse silently, finally the bigger of the two nodding inside for Fareeha to follow. She had to leave her suitcase and gun with her guide.

The smell was the first thing Fareeha noticed. Anesthetics were the primary powerful scent, but something far more foul was mixed in with the medicinal treatment taking place. It was the inevitable odour of injury. Fareeha thought she knew it well, but this was on another level. The guard was used to it. His nose had grown accustomed to the decay.

Passing through sheets of privacy and beds upon beds of the injured, Fareeha tried to stay out of the way, noting the way the doctors and nurses scrambled with an unparalleled sense of purpose. It wasn't quite chaotic, but it was no first-world medical facility either.

Fareeha could hear her before she saw her. A thick, swiss accent was speaking softly, soothing a patient, perhaps. The guard looked back to Fareeha, his eyes saying everything he wanted to relay. They were desperate but lethal. If Fareeha showed even a hint of threatening action, he wouldn't waste a second killing her.

'Our angel.' He stated quite clearly, and he pulled the curtain to reveal the nanobiologist, world-famous, genius doctor and surgeon, Angela Ziegler, known as Mercy when she was part of Overwatch. Fareeha had seen pictures, and even had vague memories from her past, but those were both romanticized, heavily edited presentations of the woman. What Fareeha saw now was the truth about the doctor.

Angela's blonde hair was matted and stuck to her perspiring face. Blotches padded out her thinning cheeks, and her lab coat was tearing in various places. She was a mess. She was drained. She was obviously not eating properly. But her eyes were pure and powerful as she stitched up an enormous gash across a little girl's leg. Her voice continued to whisper, almost humming, and despite Angela's state, Fareeha couldn't deny the thought that passed through her mind without a singular filter:

This woman was stunning in every imaginable way.

Fareeha was not a small individual, but she felt like a dwarf in comparison. Here she was, on a seemingly selfish mission with only her own excitement and pride to fulfill her, standing before a prodigy who could have it all, but chose to be in one of the most dangerous and trying countries the world's circumstances could create in order to serve those who couldn't help themselves anymore.

It felt like seconds went by as Fareeha observed Angela work, but almost an hour passed before the doctor finally looked up from her patient, wiping more sweat from her brow and shushing the small girl to rest.

'Ana?' The woman cocked her head, but then breathed out, standing and approaching Fareeha. 'No. Of course not. You're…Fareeha?'

'Y-yes.' Fareeha stammered, her knees weak. She was a full four inches taller than the doctor, but it was as though she were a child again. Fareeha rarely felt intimidated, but this was becoming more of a rare occasion by the minute.

Angela's face hardened, and she looked to the guard before addressing her fellow doctors, nurses, and surgeons.

'Give us a moment. I won't be long.' She stated clearly, and Fareeha had a sinking feeling she was quite right.


	3. III: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

' _Bend your back further. Further. Further. Further!'_

 _'It cannot bend_ further _!'_

 _'Oh? Truly?'_

 _'Ah!'_

 _'There. Now, rise up.'_

 _'It hurts!'_

 _'Of course, it does. Balance upon the tip of your toes.'_

 _'I cannot!'_

 _'Cannot! Cannot! Cannot! Truly a pathetic child! You_ will _not! There is a mortifying difference.'_

 _'Hrg…'_

 _'Tsk. Pain should be embraced, not feared. Enduring pain is what will separate you from the rest. You are built for this. You have the potential to be a legend. Pain is frightening you, but it is only proof that you are alive. How can any soul relish in pleasure if there is no pain? The pleasure you will feel cannot be paralleled should you take your ballet seriously. I have trained hundreds, but none fill me with as much anticipation as you.'_

 _'Madam?'_

 _'Face forward. Rise. Good. Again. Again. Again. Stop shaking. Head up now. Expose your neck. It is undervalued as a sexual stimulus. You have a beautiful, long neck. Present it.'_

 _'Like this?'_

 _'Yes. Perfect. Now – '_

 _'Eek!'_

 _'For the love of…What is it, child?'_

 _'A-a spider…'_

* * *

"Do you understand, Widowmaker?"

Widow browsed through the projected screen before her, her yellow eyes scanning robotically, spastically analyzing the data presented to the minute of details. So much unnecessary jargon. The final line was all she needed to know beyond the date and time:

Assassinate Tekhartha Mondatta in King's Row.

'Affirmative.' Widow hissed, turning from the mission's private meeting.

'You will be leaving in approximately two hours. Prepare your body and mind, for this is paramount to Talon's presence within the world.'

Widow continued walking, her heels clicking upon the flooring as she did so. She was one of the few members of the terrorist group who got away with doing as she pleased outside of regular duties. Reaper was another, but for entirely different reasons.

The greatest sniper in the world. She had that title. The most dangerous assassin ever to be created. She had that title as well. The operative word was "created", but even that hardly fazed the woman. Skin blue due to an artificially slowed heart, eyes surgically enhanced, and brain utterly compromised from neural reconditioning, left the once respectable woman, Amelie Guillard, as nothing more than a killing, emotionless machine.

However, "emotionless" may have been a slight dramatization. True, Widow was quite aware she "felt" far less than most, but she couldn't deny the thrill of the kill; her only driving force and purpose. When she wasn't on a mission of some form, she was aimless, staring into nothingness until called upon. This was just her life. It was a life she had come to understand and accept. She went into "sleep mode" when there was no use for her.

'Heard you have a big job coming, Widowmaker. Mind telling us what it's all about?' A fellow Talon member asked. He and his friend(?) were in full gear save for their helmets. Widow envied them. Were they going to kill sooner than her?

'Did you hear me?'

Two hours. Two hours until departure and then another several until landing. Then, between one and three more hours depending on the schedule of everyone involved. So much time. Widow was triggered already. She was anticipating the kill. She was aptly named.

'It's like talking to a wall…'

'Do you need something?' Widow finally answered, looking down upon the men. She was an imposing woman at 5'9" naturally, but her heels propped her to an easy 6'2" height. Her voice was ice, with only a hint of interest thanks to the passing thought of killing one of these men. Talon had more than enough grunts. What would it mean to be down one measly, useless individual?

'You just got a job, right?'

'Correct.'

'Who you gotta kill now?'

Something tugged at the side of Widow's mouth, her gaze flashing with venom.

'It's classified.'

'See? Tight-lipped as always.'

'As always is right. Wish I could find out just _how_ tight-lipped, if you know what I mean?'

'Hell yeah. Maybe we could help her out with all that frustration she's bound to be feeling by now, huh?'

Widow may not feel anything, but it didn't mean she couldn't comprehend such vulgar rhetoric.

'Are you suggesting that you could ease the longing boiling within my womb?' She stepped in close, her face mere inches from one of the men's. Despite her blue skin, Widowmaker _was_ a picture of otherworldly beauty. Her tight, somewhat exposing, dark purple bodysuit didn't exactly help matters, primarily when paired with her perfect form that accentuated every feature a woman could dream of. However, the man couldn't enjoy the intimate notion, for even he could tell that danger was close. Indeed, it was primal, and he backed off skittishly, perhaps aware that Widow was seconds away from breaking one of his arms…or worse.

'Let's go…' He muttered, shrinking in size next to his comrade as they skulked away.

' _Goodbye_.' Widow sighed in French, proceeding back to her temporary room. More grunts passed her by, and while they looked upon her with awe and intrigue, as was always the case, no others attempted to make contact. It was as it should be. Widow was surprised those two men had the gall to speak with her. Were they new? That was the only explanation. It was amusing enough, in the end.

Widow found her room, assuming this to be the best place to "prepare her body and mind". The door slid open easily enough, but when Widow took a single step more, she stopped at the entranceway, her eyes snapping to her left.

'What might you be doing here?' She asked before seeing the shadow that lurked in her tiny space. The mass of darkness shifted, almost transforming as it moved from a ghostly cloud of black smoke into a humanoid shape from every child's nightmare. Reaper huffed deeply, his nearly deranged, deep vocals vibrating the confined space. He shut the door behind Widow, crossing his arms as she took a seat on her bed.

'You've been given your mission?'

'But of course.'

'And?'

'It will not be a problem.'

'Security will be on full alert. Talon's existence remains on everyone's mind. They'll be expecting _something_ considering our recent activities.'

Widow shivered. The more difficult the kill, the more she _felt_ something.

'All the better.'

'Tekhartha Mondatta supports harmony between humans and omnics.'

'I couldn't care less what he supports. If he needs to be killed, I kill him. The details are irrelevant.'

Reaper shifted in space. Even with a mask, Widow could tell he was irritated for some reason.

'Overwatch will be there.'

This perked Widow's ears. Not only that, but the name of the "heroes of justice" never failed to pinch deep in her soul. It hurt. She didn't like it.

'Overwatch is dead.'

'No. Not in the slightest. As our actions escalate, so will theirs. Overwatch is coming back.'

Widow thought about it for a moment, but then shrugged.

'Why do you tell me this?'

'Because if they're present, your kill becomes far more of a challenge. This mission must succeed if we wish to move forward with Talon's endgame.'

'Again, why tell me this? I only desire to kill. Talon means nothing to me. We use one another. That is all. Give and take. They provide me with such facilities, I kill whomever they wish.'

Reaper grunted, allowing himself out.

'Overwatch has enlisted the only ones capable of stopping us. Be cautious.'

Widow didn't feel the need to answer. Reaper's presence finally disappeared, and the woman lay back upon her bed, staring at the perfectly smooth ceiling. She rested her hands upon her chest, and felt her heartbeat, it's rhythm alarmingly slow.

Reaper's words of caution were wasted on Widow. Overwatch didn't frighten her. If anything, she was hoping to encounter an agent or two. That would give her even more ecstasy. Her finest kill couldn't come quicker. She practically wanted to contact Overwatch herself and flaunt her mission in their miserable faces. Overwatch couldn't stop her. Overwatch was nothing more than –

Something pulled through Widow's brain, as though a string was wrapped around her mind and compressing her thoughts. A white-hot pain shocked her nerves, and the floor slammed into Widow's face before she could comprehend what was happening. A ringing sounded within the woman's ear, and her teeth grinded in agony.

A face was filling her thoughts. Black hair. A tiny mustache. A confident smile. Images flickered. Blood. Screaming. Gouging. Stabbing. Prying. Ripping. More screaming. Laughing. Her feet hurt. Her toes hurt. Her back hurt. Her stomach ached. A spider crawled into her nose and laid its eggs within her skull. Widow reeled upon the ground, bashing the side of her head on the concrete and digging her nails into the granite until they snapped and trailed streaks of dark blood. She felt Reaper's presence again for a split second, but the images infiltrating her sense of self were too prominent. She held a bar, and her spine was snapping. A rope throttled her neck.

The door slid open and a group of Talon's medical team poured into the room. A cold substance touched just below Widow's left ear, but she shrugged it off, easily combating each and every individual that attempted to deal with her outburst. Widow fought with the onslaught of images as her mind lost all semblance of reasoning. What was she doing here? Why did she listen to Talon? Where was she? Who were these men? Why was her skin blue? Did she always have this tattoo?

'Reset her, please.' One of the men in the very back sighed begrudgingly.

Reset? Widow's eyes stretched open, and the pause in her resistance was all the men needed. A pinch pierced her neck, and a chemical swirled through her nerves. Blackness came, and it came with a hint of relief.

* * *

 _'Oh, sweet child. A spider is nothing to fear. It is certainly not worth breaking your posture over.'_

 _'But…'_

 _'There. See? A flick and it is gone. The only reason you should dislike a spider is because it feels nothing. It is the complete opposite of what your dance encompasses.'_

 _'Pardon?'_

 _'Emotion is what moves the human spirit. It is what connects us all. Your dance transfers the complexity of feelings without a single word. A spider could never do such a thing. They are emotionless, pathetic creatures, living on pure instinct and nothing more. If you fear a spider because it embodies everything you should not be while learning my ballet, then I forgive your apprehensions. Otherwise, straighten your neck. Bend your back. Further. Further. Further.'_

 _'They…truly feel nothing?'_

 _'Nothing at all, child. Even as they consume their prey or are crushed alive, not a semblance of emotion passes through their mind.'_

 _'That is utterly despairing…'_


	4. IV: Mercy

Mercy

The young woman's presence unnerved her more than she thought it would. The resemblance to the infamous Ana was uncanny. Fareeha seemed far more serious, upon closer inspection, so the differentiating factors were already beginning to separate mother and daughter.

Angela offered Fareeha a chair, watching the way she moved and acted to get a better read on her character. She was honest to a fault. There was no hiding her emotions or feelings to someone as in tune with the human psyche as Doctor Ziegler. As the seconds passed, Angela could hear the conversation they were about to have before it even began.

'What can I do for you, Fareeha?' Angela started, her own voice sounding strained. She was tired. She was hungry. She had a headache. It was a trinity of discomfort that hadn't left her since her third day in this poor country.

'I…' Fareeha began, obviously struggling. This actually pleased Angela, for it meant Fareeha was sensitive to her surroundings and the scenario put before her. She wasn't like most brainwashed soldiers. She still had a mind. 'I was asked to speak to you about returning…to Overwatch…'

Again, Angela was impressed. She already liked the woman Fareeha had become to a degree. Based on what she knew about Ana, this shouldn't have come as a surprise. Fareeha carried out her mission, but she did so reluctantly, aware of its futility now.

'May I get you a glass of water? I'm sure your journey was a dry one.'

'…Please.' Fareeha accepted, maintaining her composure save for the slight way she tugged at her own pant leg ever so subtly.

Angela handed the other woman her room-temperature beverage and finally seated herself, as if dealing with a patient. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She didn't have the energy to seem dignified. Angela watched as Fareeha drank, seeing a hint of shyness about the presentably strong individual. A lovely contrast.

'You already know my answer, I presume?'

Fareeha paused before nodding.

'This country needs me. Many countries need me. Overwatch doesn't _need_ me. There are far fewer gifted doctors willing to do what I do over joining a team like Overwatch. My involvement here isn't illegal either. At least, not technically.'

'But…you're one of a kind. You're the guardian angel of Overwatch. You saved hundreds because of your Valkyrie Suit and Caduceus Staff. You're a miracle worker!'

'Well, not always.' Angela answered soberly, diverting her eyes. 'I've seen enough unnecessary death for many lifetimes. This country has been abandoned by its government. The people are crying for help and yet not a single soul will listen. Innocent children die on the streets daily. I…cannot turn my back on these citizens. It is against my very nature.'

Angela waited for Fareeha's rebuttal, but blinked in surprise when it didn't come.

'I know.' The Egyptian nodded. 'I know. But you are beginning to crumble as well, aren't you? Even with your self-regenerating abilities the toll is showing. Are you sleeping?'

'E-enough…' Angela was taken aback. She hadn't read Fareeha perfectly. Perhaps she _was_ tired. She pegged this woman for a stubborn, insistent dreamer, but she zeroed in on Angela's condition and asked for her own evaluation. As much as Angela longed to provide for the people of Iraq, they only seemed capable of taking. It was understandable, of course, but Angela was human, at the end of the day.

'What about food?'

'They need it more than me. There's so few resources to begin with, and my nanotechnological enhancements enable me to…'

'So, little if any.' Fareeha muttered.

Angela's eye twitched. This conversation wasn't what she had projected in her mind.

'Who sent you? Was it Jack?'

'No. Winston.'

Angela's heart leapt without her consent. If Winston was willing to rebel against the U.N., the situation must have changed. Angela's access to the outside world was stuttered in the best-case scenario. What was happening?

'Why now?'

'He says the second Omnic Crisis has already started. He claims Talon is more active than ever. He knows something big is about to take place. He wants to have Overwatch in place before it's out of control…like the first Omnic Crisis that you helped stop.'

Angela didn't answer immediately. Winston was a genius. Certainly, his emotional attachment to Overwatch was a factor, but he would never make such a bold move if he didn't feel it was absolutely necessary. Yet, Angela Ziegler had come to terms with her place in the world. She had no desire to fight again. She was meant to heal, not hurt. Overwatch forced her to kill; an act that went against everything she stood for and had worked toward. The age-old, philosophical paradox mounted before her: kill the few to save the many? Did that make killing acceptable?

'But you're needed here.' Fareeha interrupted Angela's thoughts, and the doctor let out air she didn't know she was holding. 'My plea is not fair to you. Winston sent me because he may have thought I wouldn't be sensitive to your position. He's still getting to know me, I suppose.'

'Perhaps…' Angela gripped at her hands. 'I'm sorry you made such a trip, Fareeha. I appreciate knowing what's taking place in the world, but this country continues to be ravaged, and I'm not leaving this space until the next time it's necessary to move due to terrorists catching wind of my objective.'

'Affirmative.' Fareeha nodded, her dark eyes mysterious but committed. 'I will assist you for the time being. My departure isn't scheduled until tomorrow.'

'Assist me?' The surprises wouldn't cease.

'You need to rest, Doctor Ziegler. I do not have the skills you do, but basic army medical training should suffice for some of the patients to allow you _some_ relief.'

Angela breathed out slowly, shaking her head. She knew for certain that Fareeha wouldn't back down from this proposal. She would give her the win here.

'I will accept your offer, then.' She stood up, moving to Fareeha and extending her hand. 'Thank-you, Fareeha Amari.'

'No. Thank-you, Doctor Angela Ziegler. You're a hero to me, now more than even back when I knew of you as a little girl, and this is an honour more than anything.'

* * *

'Her name is Sara. She can speak a little bit of English. Her parents are no longer with us. She's quite shy, but needs her bandages changed almost every two hours.'

'Hello, Sara.'

Angela grinned, seeing the way Sara hid her face in her blankets.

'This is Fadhil. He was a soldier.'

'He's quite young.'

'That doesn't matter.' Angela grimaced. The boy was barely older than twelve. 'He was shot in the eye. I saved him, fortunately. He doesn't speak. He has some restrained anger, but he fights against it.'

'Fadhil. A brave man.' Fareeha commented, and Angela almost smiled sadly. Her voice was tight, as was expected. Such an iconic injury for the seemingly stoic Egyptian woman.

'Mohammed. His family was executed before him. He sleeps continuously. His brain has reverted back to that of a child. He needs a lot of love.'

Fareeha didn't reply to that. Angela continued to show the newest Overwatch agent her work. Greeting some of her patients kindly, knowing all of their names and understanding their needs immediately. Her memory was incredible. Her bedside mannerisms were perfect. She was stern but kind, capable yet not unwilling to allow her "family" to take care of themselves as need be. Angela wanted Fareeha to see all of this. She wanted her to report the whole truth to Winston now that Fareeha had agreed to stay with her for a bit.

It took almost an hour for the tour to be done, and eventually, Angela brought Fareeha into another room full of approximately twenty makeshift beds with yellowing sheets. Each bed was occupied, ranging from adults, to children, to men, to women.

'Just ask what they need, and help them feel cared for. That's all I expect from you.' Angela turned to an elderly woman, the Iraqi's eyes lighting up the moment she saw her. 'Good evening, Ms. Noora. It's nice to see you.'

'Mercy…' The woman touched the doctor's face. 'Oh, Mercy. So beautiful.'

'You flatter me. How are we feeling today?'

'Mercy…Mercy…'

'Yes. That was my name. I mostly go by Dr. Ziegler now, if you would be so kind.'

'Mercy. So much prettier. So many men would love you.'

'That is certainly not my priority right now, Ms. Noora. _You_ are who I am worried about.'

'Bah. Leave me to die. You must live _for_ me.'

'Now that's lunacy.' Angela's lip quivered. 'How is your stomach?'

'…Smelly.'

'Truly? After all that work we did?'

'Mercy…I'm sorry.'

'Don't be, Ms. Noora. It is hardly your fault.'

'I am causing more work for you.'

'I welcome it.'

'Mercy…Mercy…'

'There, there. Here. Drink this medicine while I take a peek at the wound.'

'Sorry. Sorry, Mercy…'

Angela had seen death more than she could count, and her peers scoffed at her for being infamously emotional in the face of it. Every. Single. Time. The worst part was hiding her fears from her patients. Ms. Noora's stomach was beyond saving. Her body was too old to adapt to any form of nanotechnology as well. She wouldn't be able to hold food down at all, soon enough. She would starve to death. Her innards had been ravaged by a bomb. Her organs were on a timer that continued to tick. Her sanity was fading.

However, Fareeha had to see this. She had to understand the core of Angela's efforts.

'Who's that?' Noora asked, as if reading Angela's thoughts.

'That is…an old acquaintance of mine.'

'Fareeha Amari, Ms. Noora. A pleasure.'

'Huh.' A beat, Angela wondering if that was all her sometimes-sassy patient would say before a more appropriate follow-up was made. 'Manly.'

Fareeha hardly seemed bothered, shrugging indifferently.

'I take that as a compliment in most cases.'

'There, Ms. Noora. How does that feel?'

'Oh, fine. Mercy. Mercy, it always does. But I'm done, right? Have mercy on this old soul.'

Angela prayed she hid her feelings well enough as she stood to help with some others in the room, noting that her assistants were making their rounds as well.

'Can you handle this, Fareeha?' She looked up to the woman, noting the hint of masculinity about her as well now that her perceptive patient had made the point.

'I will try. I make no promises. However, so long as you get a moment's rest, I am willing to do my best.'

'I'm trusting you.'

'Rest, Dr. Ziegler.'

Angela almost huffed, not appreciating being told what to do in her own hospital, but she knew Fareeha's curtness belied intense consideration. Angela went to her "room". That is, what used to be a washroom before the piping was scavenged ages ago. She took off her coat and plopped onto the collection of worn-out pillows on the ground. When was the last occasion she actually slept for more than an hour at a time, sitting up in a chair next to a patient who could pass on if ignored for too long?

Fareeha was an interesting one now that she was a full-grown woman, Angela would give her that. If circumstances could've been different, perhaps they may have become close friends. However, joining Overwatch now was out of the question. And if Fareeha thought she could convince Angela otherwise by forming some kind of bond through the doctor's work, the girl was delusional.

Still, Angela had a feeling Fareeha earnestly wished to help, and that in itself gave the doctor pause.

Angela wanted to think about it further, but sleep engulfed her hard and fast, the rest of Dr. Ziegler's thoughts merged into incomprehensible images and sounds.

* * *

' _Where…?_ ' Angela asked in her swiss dialect. Her eyes were still heavy, but her mind knew that something was off. She wasn't allowed to rest for so long. What if someone was lost because of her negligence? Angela scrambled to put her ratty lab coat back on and rubbed her face over and over, regretting her willingness to sleep on the job.

And yet, it had felt so good. Her energy was recharged, if only a little bit, and her patience, she found, had been appropriately adjusted.

'Where is my guest?' Angela asked one of her fellow doctors. The man snickered, pointing to the first room Angela had shown Fareeha. When the doctor made it to the doorway, she found Fareeha sitting next to Fadhil, with Sara clearly eavesdropping as best she could.

'…It allows me to fly, to a degree. Its fuel isn't infinite, so that causes some trouble, but what it _does_ allow me to do is perform jobs very few could.'

'Hm.' Fadhil hummed, staring at the Egyptian with his remaining eye.

'Perhaps you could man one someday as well. I'm currently testing the prototype, but when the time comes, they may become standard gear for a very special taskforce.'

'Mmm…'

'Let me change your bandage here.'

'Ugh…'

'No. It is nothing to be ashamed of. You are a strong man. My mother didn't even survive such a wound, and she was quite famous, I'll have you know.'

Angela didn't want to interrupt. She was enraptured by the interaction. Fareeha was awkward, yes, but her heart was in the right place. Fadhil responded to few very well, yet the young boy was connecting to Fareeha quite readily.

'What was your mother's name?' Sara finally chimed in.

'It was…Ana. Ana Amari. She fought with Overwatch. Do you know who they are?'

'Bad people?' The little girl answered earnestly, and Angela waited in anticipation, her stomach turning. She needed to get back to work, but the hospital felt quiet, and it was getting late. The rounds would be left to Angela soon enough. She could work then.

'Maybe some. But they were mostly heroes who fought for humanity in the first Omnic Crisis, when machines were hurting people.'

'The machines were sick.' Sara nodded.

'Yes. They were irreparably sick…' Fareeha didn't make the bandage as tight as Angela would have preferred, but her hands worked decently enough. Fadhil seemed pleased as well. 'This tattoo is in remembrance of my mother. I didn't always get along with her, but she fought hard, just as you did, Fadhil.'

'…Hero…' Fadhil muttered, and Angela's eyes widened, covering her mouth.

'Yes. You could be a hero, too. I know it. Overwatch wasn't perfect, but they were undoubtedly heroes.'

'Hm.' Fadhil nodded.

'You're pretty cool, Fareeha.' Sara giggled.

'I…I'm not, really. I just admire Overwatch a little too much for my own good, I think.'

'Tell us more about your super suit!'

'Or about fighting the bad guys!'

'Are you going to save us from the robots?'

'Quiet down! Some of us are trying to rest!'

Angela could feel the tension building, and clapped her hands, entering one of her most needy rooms with a slight skip to her step.

'Now, now, everyone. It is almost time for bed. Let's thank Fareeha for helping today. She'll be departing tomorrow…?'

'Yes.'

'Let's say goodnight for now. Is everyone settled? Does anyone need anything before I go for a bit?'

'The doctors helped ensure everyone was taken care of.' Fareeha reported.

Angela led Fareeha down one of the halls to what could be considered her office, if not for the fact it was literally the smallest table and two stools. She offered the woman a seat, the itch to continue making her rounds festering. An emergency could disrupt them at any moment, but for now, Angela felt the need to talk with this individual.

'Your bedside manners are better than I expected.'

'Thank-you. But I did not connect with everyone. One man was particularly disgruntled by my presence. He didn't speak English, but one of the other doctors translated that he wanted his angel, not some Amazonian warrior.'

Angela gasped, but then couldn't help but giggle a little.

'Was that Shad?'

'…Yes. I believe that _was_ his name.'

'I'm so sorry, Fareeha. He's something of an old…er…charmer.'

'Charmer?'

'Let us just say his hands have been slapped a number of times.'

'…I don't understand.'

Angela continued to laugh. When was the last time she sincerely found humour in something? Fareeha was obviously smart and had enough life experience to boot but, at the same time, she was oddly ignorant and innocent at times. It was highly amusing.

'He… _ahem_ …likes to touch inappropriately when given the occasion.'

Fareeha's face went red, her dark skin turning a wonderful shade in compensation. It was overly adorable, considering her stature and demeanor.

'He has groped you?'

'On many occasions. A sly devil, that one.'

'You are not bothered by this?'

Angela giggled again, knowing Fareeha was being exceedingly sincere, as always.

'Honestly, Fareeha, I'm not; not to the extent I could be. He's an old man. I don't encourage it, but most of my patients aren't leaving here anytime soon. If that's what helps him fight, and if he happens to catch me with my guard down, then so be it.'

'I would not appreciate such a breach.'

'That doesn't surprise me.' Angela was still smiling, eyeing Fareeha with intrigue. 'But Fadhil seemed to like you. He's never responded so well to someone before. Perhaps he could sense your similarities.'

'Agreed. He is a good boy, and will make a fine man if taken care of…which I know he will be.'

'Oh? You're not going to attempt to convince me to return to Overwatch?'

'You already gave me your answer, did you not?'

'Well, yes, but I assumed you weren't done trying yet.'

'Have you changed your mind?' Fareeha raised a brow.

'No. You see what I do here. I can't leave yet.'

'As I thought.' The larger woman stood. 'Is there anything left to do? Allow me to help more.'

'Sit for a moment.' Angela cocked her head. 'It's quieter for a spell around this time. I want to speak with you further. I have approximately ten minutes before another batch of rounds need to be made.'

Fareeha listened slowly, glancing about the place again.

'You are hidden from the battles here?'

'Somewhat. We move periodically, when possible. This sort of establishment is not appreciated by those who would propagate conflict. Unfortunately, the same propagators are the ones in power.'

'Unacceptable.' Fareeha grunted.

'Agreed. The innocent are the ones who suffer because of a select few and their greed. This country, perhaps, is one of the most devastated by such mentality. I don't see my work ending here anytime soon.'

'These people adore you.'

Angela shrugged.

'They seem to appreciate my efforts, at the very least.'

Fareeha paused, playing with her thumbs in her lap. She was anxious about saying whatever she would next.

'I will give Winston all the details tomorrow. He will understand, I'm sure.'

'…Are you disappointed?' Angela asked selfishly, for she knew the answer.

'Of course, I am.' The other woman admitted easily. 'However, at the same time, I am overjoyed to know that one of the heroes I have always looked up to is perhaps even more admirable of a person than I could have ever hoped.'

Angela soaked in the compliment, trying not to enjoy it too much.

'You're a curious individual, Fareeha. I dare say my evaluation of you now is quite contrasting when compared to the one I made during our very first encounter.'

'For the better, I would hope.'

Angela laughed, standing and preparing to make another set of rounds.

'Certainly, for the better.'


	5. V: Tracer

Tracer

'Are you sure you want to do this?'

'I have to be now, big guy.'

'I'm sorry. That was a foolish question.'

'Heheh. Nope. It was a kind one. Your heart is in the right place, as always.'

'But your uh…your friend is…'

'Not happy, that's for sure. But…I just have to help. I can't pretend something isn't wrong in this world.' Lena looked out the helicopter's window, seeing the land below draw closer. Her uniform felt a little tight, but it was perfect for the job at hand. She wanted the media to know that Overwatch was back, and they weren't going to sit idle as Talon spread its shadow as far as it could manage.

Still, Emily's face kept plaguing her mind, and Lena's heart hurt no matter how bubbly she attempted to be. It was one of the hardest decisions she was ever forced to make, but it was one she would live with now.

* * *

' _Hey, um, how goes it, Luv?'_

' _Whoa. What do you mean "how goes it"? What's wrong?'_

 _She could tell immediately. She had just got in the door and removed her shoes but Emily could still tell something was painfully amiss with her girlfriend._

' _I'm just askin' how you're feeling. Is that so strange? Heheh…'_

' _Oh, boy.' Emily was worried. This made Lena anxious, since she hated seeing the girl anything but content and happy with her. She pushed her hands through her gloriously red hair and strode over to the couch, lazing upon it and sighing after a hard day's work. 'Just tell me, Lena. Did you get in another brawl with some omnic haters or something? You know how messy that was last time.'_

' _No! No, don't be silly. I'm being a good girl.'_

' _I somehow doubt that.'_

 _Emily extended her arms out, and Lena felt bad embracing them, but she wanted to, fearing not having another opportunity. It got worse when Emily's soft lips brushed her girlfriend's, the two young women exchanging a brief, but intimate kiss._

' _Mm. Coffee.' Lena beamed._

' _Long day. Couldn't have done it without the sweet nectar of life.'_

' _Cheers to that.'_

' _Oh, how would you know?'_

' _Eheh…Well, that_ is _kinda the thing…'_

' _Oh? You got a job that will last this time? No more random "trips"?'_

' _Um…Somewhat?'_

' _Lena…' Emily glared, and Lena knew there was no going back now. The truth would have to be released. This temporary peace and stability was all too brief and long. Lena took a deep breath in and shuffled off of Emily, conscious of the way the couch creaked as she did so._

' _Hear me out, okay? This wasn't an easy thing, but I just don't have a choice.'_

' _Alright. I'm listening. But I don't like how you're talking right now. It's freaking me out.'_

' _Good sense, Luv.' Lena winked, pointing comedically, but returning to the severity of the conversation. 'There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to spit it out and we'll go from there. I'm…I-I'm…' Lena Oxton grasped reality and physical presence in a different way than most. Chronal disassociation had that effect on some people. Being grounded in the present because of a piece of fragile technology helped, too. Meeting and connecting with Emily was a risk both girls decided to take. Emily wasn't even aware she could be interested; that's how strong their initial meeting's spark was. It hadn't been that long since they started dating, but Lena knew she was happy. Scared, but happy. Now, was she really willing to put all this in jeopardy? The images Winston had sent was all the convincing she needed. Lena Oxton was a wonderful lover, but she was an even better hero, and not just anyone could do both roles._

' _I'm…joining Overwatch again.'_

 _Emily's pause was agonizing. She furrowed her brow and shook her head, sighing and sighing some more. Lena could only wait for her response. Anything else would be spastic and possibly even more damaging._

' _Join…an organization that has been disbanded and branded criminal? That Overwatch?'_

' _Eheh. Yep.'_

'… _Is this a joke?'_

' _No, Luv. The world is suffering. It never stopped hurting. It's just…Things are getting out of control. You've seen the signs, right? Even here, in King's Row; especially in the old part of the city, there's so much hate and anger. The first Omnic Crisis left more damage than anyone could expect. Not only that, but Talon is starting to move, and someone has to stop them.'_

' _Oh, and you'll stop everything? Just you?'_

' _Of course not…'_

' _Then don't go. They can do it without you.'_

' _But I'm special. I'm not like most people. I can…travel through time. I can pull stunts off that nobody else can. I can…'_

' _Disappear forever if the right bullet hits you in the right spot.' Emily's face was starting to turn red, and Lena knew she was getting more upset by the second. 'You're right; you_ are _special. You're special to_ me _! When I started having feelings for you, I thought I was going crazy! I've never…never felt this way about another girl. If you return to Overwatch, then…then I'm not sure this can go on. I don't know if it would be fair…to either of us…'_

' _I know, Luv…'_

' _You know, but you still want to go?'_

' _I don't "want" to. I "need" to. For you. For everyone in this city. For the world. Overwatch changed the tide of the first war, and with another one coming, I can't turn a blind eye.'_

 _Emily bit at her lower lip, sucking it in. Lena loved it when she did that, but the Brit couldn't even enjoy the view. Her chest was in pain, and her pulse was moving faster than she even could._

' _How long would you be gone?'_

' _I don't know.'_

' _Would I be able to see you?'_

' _I'm not sure. Maybe?'_

' _Do you have a choice for how far in the world you'd need to travel?'_

' _Not really. Depends on the mission.'_

 _She was beginning to break finally, tears filling her eyes._

' _Can you promise you'd come back to me…someday?'_

' _I can try…'_

' _But you can't promise?'_

 _Lena swallowed._

' _It's going to be dangerous.'_

' _I know…'_

' _Emily…Em. I'm sorry.'_

' _I know. I know you can't back away from this. It's part of the reason I fell for you. You're earnest, kind, charming, and…and you care so much for other people. You would do anything to help someone in need. If the world's in need…how can I expect you to choose a single girl over all that?'_

' _It…doesn't have to be the end, right?'_

 _Emily wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop. She smiled, yet she was crumbling alongside Lena._

' _Oh, Lena. I…God…I think we both know the only answer here…'_

* * *

'We're preparing to land. You reviewed the mission data?' Winston's gruff but soothing voice asked, forcing Lena to remove Emily's pained expression from the forefront of her brain.

'Yeah. You sure about the intel though? I mean, that's a pretty amazing network you got goin'.'

'Fortunately, we're not the only ones who can't sit idle while the world is corrupted. Two potentially present Talon members, in particular, were outlined in the briefing. You understand their threat levels?'

'Yup! Lethal and lethal-er, right?'

'Um…I suppose that's accurate enough. Code names: Reaper and Widowmaker. There are some fairly disturbing rumours circulating about both of their true identities, but – '

'Winston?'

The enormous ape suddenly perked up, unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to the door, shaking the whole helicopter as he did so.

'Winston!?'

'No time. Follow as soon as you can!'

And Winston thrust open the door, leaping out without a second's hesitation. Lena panicked for a moment, but then began speaking to their pilot through the headset.

'Take me down ASAP, Luv! Something's happening in the museum already!'

"Roger that!"

It was starting. Tracer's first battle since hanging up her gloves and uniform. Her first official mission as an Overwatch agent anew. She thought of Emily one last time, and then prepared to enter the fray. Doomfist's gauntlet was the apparent target. If Talon got their hands on that, too much shifted in their favour; it was _that_ powerful of a weapon. Lena readied her Pulse Pistols, and once the helicopter was within the safe perimeters of a jump for someone of Lena's build and abilities, the young woman said a silent prayer, and burst into action, descending into her maiden battle upon rejoining Overwatch.

As soon as Lena entered the museum, she locked on to a target that matched Widowmaker's description almost perfectly. The dangerous individual was angling her sniper rifle, with an overly extravagant visor seemingly enhancing her presumably capable skills. Lena had but a fraction of a second to take everything in, and while Winston was handling who must have been Reaper, Lena blinked into Widowmaker's range, getting so close she could smell the other woman's almost metallic scent.

'Psst. What you lookin' at?'

Her reaction speed was inhuman. Even with another blink, Lena barely evaded Widowmaker's counterattack, her gun shifting into the fully automatic mode that the mission's briefing had mentioned. Lena dashed midair, both evading and attacking at the same time. All the information provided through Winston's intel was spot on. These Talon members were a cut above, just like the main attack force within Overwatch. Lena could only spray and pray, maneuvering herself behind some cover before Winston took over, their ability to work off one another mid-combat hardly missing a beat.

Winston endured some heat from both adversaries now, roaring bravely all the while as Lena screamed to him, knowing he would react in kind. His enormous hand reached out and Lena blinked into it, allowing herself to be hurled into the middle of the fight, spinning and dashing about, stretching her arms out wide as she attempted to subdue both Reaper and Widowmaker. Accuracy wasn't the primary concern; staying alive and hoping for a lucky shot was. Constant movement. Ever cautious of what these enemies were capable of. Lena's mind was a flurry, not having time to comprehend her circumstances precisely, and being forced to run on autopilot.

Reaper's movements suddenly shifted, and both Lena and Winston could tell, instinctively, something was coming. The cloaked man began chuckling maniacally as a swarm of darkness peeled off of his cape and encircled his entire being. When even Widowmaker took cover, Lena knew it was time to bail, but Reaper's following attack happened so erratically that the time warrior could barely register what was going on.

An outbreak of bullets exploded from Reaper's location, an impossibly fast shower of death blossoming from a singular location. Lena had no other choice but to seek shelter again, her chronal accelerator needing time to recharge before she worked it into the ground some more. She reloaded her pistols and breathed heavily, forcing blips of Emily from her already strained brain. Winston was charging Reaper by the sounds of things, but it was when Lena noted another sound nearby that she finally looked down to see two young boys staring up at her in bewilderment. They were caught in a bad situation and most certainly scared, she would imagine.

How did _the_ Tracer deal with fear every time she fought?

'Um. Don't worry, luvs, the cavalry's here!'

Joy. Humour. Giggling. Running from fear. Taunting fear. Laughing at fear. Only a few more seconds and she would show these boys what Overwatch was all about. The younger of the two was ecstatic by Lena's words, while the older one looked far more aware of the danger they were all currently in, especially with Winston finally collapsing, taking too many bullets to not have one hit one of his vulnerable points in his armour. His glasses skid across the floor as if signifying his fall.

Lena bit down, knowing she was almost ready to rejoin her friend in his struggle. Just a few more seconds. This was a pivotal moment in the fight.

'Come on, big guy, get up.' Lena begged. She couldn't do it on her own. She could barely do it _with_ Winston. These Talon agents were brutally lethal. If Widowmaker had a moment, Lena was sure her sniper rifle could end things frightfully fast.

Fortunately, Reaper made the mistake of approaching Winston and not taking him out with the small opportunity he had. Taunting the gorilla by stepping on Winston's glasses, Reaper barely had time to react as Winston's Primal Rage took over, his whole composition flashing red and a berserker of a warrior crashing through any composure he once held.

Lena's chronal accelerator beeped, and she exhaled sharply, a smile unavoidable.

'Yeah!' She screamed in delight, joining her companion in a last-ditch effort to immobilize Reaper. With Winston at her side, they easily secured the upper hand, although Lena had to be aware of Widow's support fire from her blind spots. Winston finally managed to capture Reaper, and just as he was about to create a crater with Reaper as his tool of choice, the mysterious, black-robed figure seemingly transformed into the shadows that followed him, and Lena knew he was gone for now. She turned back to Widow only to be forced into covering her eyes, a large eruption of power exploding from where the gauntlet had been encased.

Widow's form tumbled through the museum, and Lena seized the chance, Winston following suit. Widow was the cornered one now, and Lena had to admire her tenacity, the mystifyingly gorgeous woman not giving an inch until Lena blinked behind her, kicking the sniper's gun from her hand and using it against the Talon member without mercy. Widow continued to impress, deflecting lethal bullets with her gauntlet prior to firing a grappling hook off and taking a suddenly manifested Reaper with her up and out of the museum. Grenades were dropped, deterring immediate pursuit, but Winston leapt high and out after Talon within only three jumps.

Lena almost pursued immediately, but part of her hesitated, turning to her little comrades-in-arms and grinning proudly after putting the pieces together in her head and seeing Doomfist's gauntlet crackling, damaged in the arms of the older brother. Both boys stared up at Lena in awe, her heart soaring with joy due to their expressions. The big brother sheepishly handed Lena the artifact they all had fought hard to protect.

Lena felt the weight of the weapon, and noted how small the hands were that passed it to her. She sighed inwardly, thinking of Emily and knowing this was the right decision. What if she and Winston hadn't come? What would have happened to these boys? What if Doomfist's gauntlet had fallen into Talon's hands once more? She admired the bravery put on display this day, and she was reminded of her youth in a wave of painful nostalgia.

'You know?' She started, staring at the boys with all her sincerity. 'The world could always use more heroes.'

A wink and a giggle, and Lena was off after placing the weapon back where it belonged, flying through the air to finish a mission she had no doubts about anymore.


	6. VI: Pharah

Pharah

It was the crack of dawn when Fareeha awoke. She slept hard, having assisted Dr. Ziegler late into the night. When the Egyptian woman started bobbing her head midway through a patient's conversation, Angela had encouraged her to go to bed, and Fareeha cursed herself for being incapable of even thinking about waking up until now. She went to her bag (which was returned to her quite readily by the guards when Angela gave her approval) and changed her clothes, stretching the basic black t-shirt over her body and pulling at it to remove the folds before adjusting her jeans' button and zipper. She had "shared" a room with Angela, although Fareeha had a feeling the doctor didn't sleep the night before, which only weighed on the girl's mind further. Calling where Angela slept a room might have been an exaggeration as well.

Fareeha still couldn't get over it. Angela Ziegler was a genius; a prodigy. She had won multiple awards for her research in nanotechnology and her contributions to the medical field globally. From an incredibly young age, she was a household name among doctors. She could have had it all. She could have been rich and living in the lap of luxury for the rest of her days with ease. She was beautiful. She could have any man she wanted with the right bat of her gorgeous eyes. She was everything Fareeha wasn't as an "ideal" woman.

So, why?

Fareeha moved through the hospital, pushing aside the various drapes and listening to the now familiar sounds of patients and the doctors that would help them. Many of the residents were still sleeping, it seemed, but that didn't mean there wasn't work to be done. Angela was always busy, and Fareeha's heart went out to her. She truly was a hero of Overwatch. Everything that Fareeha had read about her didn't do the woman justice. She was an angel among men. She inspired Fareeha so quickly and easily by her actions alone.

Fareeha passed by Fadhil's area and stopped, deciding to step in and check on the young boy. He was sitting up, staring at his hands with his single eye. Fareeha almost didn't want to disturb him, but he turned his attention to her, and she thought she saw a glimmer.

'Good morning.' Fareeha smiled awkwardly.

Fadhil nodded, looking away again.

'Hi, Fareeha.' Sara beamed, some teeth missing.

'Hello. How are you feeling today?'

'Good. Mercy visited us already.'

'You…call her that?'

'Sometimes. She doesn't like it though. I don't know why.'

Fareeha snickered.

'It's a complicated matter.'

'Adult stuff?'

'…Yes.'

'Oh.'

Fareeha moved to Fadhil's bed, sitting near it in a fragile chair.

'Are your hands okay?' She tried, knowing he was a difficult patient but feeling she could continue the connection they shared the day before.

Fadhil nodded again, gripping his fingers into a fist.

'Fight.' He muttered.

'Fight?'

'The bad people. I want to fight…with Overwatch.' He was still mumbling, but some life was in his voice now, and Fareeha's chest flipped.

'When you're older, I would love to have you, Fadhil.'

'Now.'

'Not yet. You need to heal first.'

Fadhil's face construed, but then he nodded a third time in defeat.

'You're part of Overwatch, too?' Sara crawled to the end of her bed.

Fareeha lifted a finger to her mouth and winked, sharing the secret among some of the patients.

'You can't have Mercy!' A man chimed in from the corner of the room.

'She has no intention of going back to Overwatch. Do not worry.'

The room seemed to breathe out in unison.

'Take care of her, everyone. She's a special individual.'

'We know…'

Fareeha looked to Fadhil and grinned.

'Protect her, Fadhil. I'm counting on you.'

The boy's expression didn't change much, but it was enough to be a sign of affirmation for Fareeha. She waved goodbye and proceeded to seek out Angela. Her flight would be expecting her in about an hour or two, but Fareeha felt she needed one more good conversation with the doctor before she departed. She enjoyed Angela's company. She could completely understand why the patients here loved her so.

Fareeha rounded a scuffed-up corner and found a room completely closed off with one of the guards standing by. His arms were crossed, and he noted Fareeha with feigning disinterest.

'Is something wrong?' Fareeha asked.

'Surgery.' Was the gruff reply.

'Oh.' Fareeha waited, wanting to witness Angela at work but knowing a guard meant her chances were unlikely. 'Is it serious?'

The man nodded. His eyes were bloodshot, and he hadn't shaved for a very long time. He was fairly tall, but not altogether built large. His skin was dark and leathery. His large rifle certainly sent a particular message.

Someone groaned uncomfortably through the thin walls, and Fareeha heard Angela's soothing voice shortly thereafter. The sounds of discomfort continued, but they lessened, Angela's words continuing to prevail slowly.

'Who is she helping?'

'…Noora.'

Fareeha blinked. Noora didn't have much time. Even Fareeha could tell. What procedure was Dr. Ziegler attempting to pull off now? What was the point?

The groaning became rhythmic, and Angela's words grew more urgent. Others were sniffling as Noora's voice rose, and she began speaking Arabic. Fareeha could only pick out a few words. Her heart hammered in her chest, and the panic reached a fever pitch before an unsettling silence. The guard shuffled on the spot, standing aside. Some doctors, nurses, and perhaps friends exited the room. Fareeha caught a glimpse of Angela, and pushed her way in, scanning the area and seeing the poor woman seated next to an unmoving Noora. There was blood all over Angela's gloved hands. She was like a statue, staring at nothing with a curled upper lip.

'Angela?' Fareeha tried, and at first, the former Overwatch medic hardly blinked, but then she turned, water filling her eyes.

'We lost her. I attempted to inject nanomachines to help her stomach's damaged tissue and nerves, but her body wouldn't take to them. She was dying. It was the only solution. She wanted me to try. I knew it wouldn't work. The variables were too erratic, and the setting isn't ideal. I don't have the proper tools or assistance, and I don't understand precisely her…her…'

'Shh. It's alright.' Fareeha wasn't sure what she was saying, but she knew she needed to calm Angela. She looked more worn out than before, if that was possible, and Fareeha hadn't expected her to be hit so hard by a death. Wasn't she used to it? She must've been by now. How many people had she seen pass on? Fareeha wondered if something was wrong with her since the army had done an admirable job of desensitizing her reactions to such tragedy.

'A death of any kind is never alright, Fareeha. That is the fundamental problem with this world.'

Fareeha didn't know how to respond. She could only watch single tears drip down Angela's cheeks as she pulled some sheets over Noora. Her mouth was tight, and it was clear she was trying not to cry harder than she was already.

'Can I do anything?' Fareeha attempted, feeling less than helpless.

'No. Nothing.' Angela answered curtly, tears persisting. Her voice was strong again, however.

Fareeha watched the doctor clean up everything but the water lining her face. She didn't look at Fareeha as she tidied. The fact nobody entered the room led Fareeha to believe that Angela desired time alone during such happenings. Fareeha almost left herself, sensing the repelling force from Dr. Ziegler. But instead, she found a fresh tissue and lifted it to the woman's face, dabbing at the tears and forcing her mouth to work.

'I'm sorry.' Fareeha said, and Angela stopped, her expression faltering and her shoulders shaking.

'Even with all my power and knowledge…I still can't save those right in front of me at times…'

'But you have saved many, have you not?'

'I have also lost many.'

'You're not a Goddess. You're a human doing more than most.'

'That's hardly saying anything whatsoever.' Angela snapped bitterly, but she didn't push Fareeha back, even as the Egyptian took the doctor's trembling shoulders and held them firmly. 'T-thank-you…' She muttered, looking away. 'I cannot help myself. I wish I could numb my heart, but it breaks every time. It is my weakness as a physician, I know.'

Fareeha huffed, releasing Angela so as to not overextend her welcome. The woman's form was small and slender, pleasing to the touch, surprisingly. It was harder to let go than Fareeha assumed it would be.

'Your weakness? Perhaps. I suppose some may view it in such a way.'

'My peers certainly did.'

'Well, I do not.' Fareeha confirmed, straightening up. 'Not in the slightest. True, I find it somewhat odd, but I stand in admiration more than I did before here and now, and that is saying something, I think.'

'Oh?' Angela chuckled slightly, regaining the composure she needed in her position. The pain remained in her eyes, but she was a professional, at the end of the day. 'That's an intriguing statement, Ms. Amari. You are not quite what I expected, I'll admit, when I first met you.'

'You are more incredible than _I_ expected, Ms. Ziegler.'

Angela barely reacted to the repeat compliment as she had before. She was used to being praised, it would seem. This irked Fareeha for reasons she couldn't quite ascertain…which bothered her more.

Angela sniffed one more time and then made her way out of the room once she was done cleaning. Fareeha followed, noting how the other doctors and one of the guards entered after them, likely to deal with the body.

'You are preparing to leave soon?' Angela asked, leading Fareeha to the front sector of the hospital.

'I am. I would stay, but there is only so much time allotted to this mission. I'm sure there will be more for me to perform.'

Angela stopped, stepping off into a tiny area that consisted of a single chair. The women were forced to be close, practically breathing one another's discharge of air. Dr. Ziegler sat, graceful again no matter how ragged she must've felt.

'You are overjoyed to be part of Overwatch now.' It wasn't a question, and Fareeha could do little else but confirm the statement with a nod. 'If Winston is in charge, and if the government isn't involved, I suppose there is hope. Jack was too emotional and proud. Gabriel was even worse, in a way. Winston is smart, and above all, he doesn't have an ounce of damaging greed in his body. I cannot support Overwatch now, but…I am not ignorant enough to claim it is without its virtues if handled correctly this time.'

'I will do my best to ensure it stays on the path of truth, Dr. Ziegler.'

'I know.' Angela forced a smile, and Fareeha shivered slightly. This woman was dangerous. It was lethal enough that she was intellectually brilliant, but even in her state Fareeha could recognize a natural beauty as well. Who could resist the good doctor if she cleaned up just a bit? Fareeha doubted many would be capable. Angela went on. 'You are honest to a fault, it would appear. I do not dislike that, but some may attempt to take advantage of such a trait. Be careful, Fareeha.'

'You as well, Dr. Ziegler. This is not a safe country.'

'And that is why I am here.' Angela winked, and again, Fareeha was filled with anxiety. Not even men she had dated before could invoke such an effect. Was she just tired? Was she blinded by respect and appreciation for a hero she had admired for as long as she knew of her? Likely stories. Nothing to fret over.

'May I…visit you again should the opportunity arises?'

'I may not be here at that point, Fareeha.'

'Oh. True.' Fareeha blushed, feeling like a child even though she was a fully-grown woman in her early thirties.

'However, should we exchange contact information, it won't be an issue.'

A shiver ran Fareeha's spine.

'That would make sense.' She tried to stay composed, but felt as though she was failing as Fareeha extracted her phone and typed in Angela's contact information.

'If you need anything else, Fareeha, feel free to call me, understand?'

'I'm sure you'll be busy enough as it is, but I will keep that in mind.'

'I cannot deny it. Also, the reception is terrible. I hardly keep my phone charged, to be honest.'

'So I've noticed.' Fareeha glanced about, seeing the cracks in the weakened walls, the boarded-up windows, the sticky floor, the messy bedding, and more uncomfortable living conditions. She shook her head, sighing inwardly. 'How _do_ you do it, Dr. Ziegler? I could last a few days, but…'

'Because I can, Fareeha. It's as simple as that. If I could duplicate myself to help the world over at the expense of my own life's length, I would without a second thought.'

Fareeha swallowed. Angela wasn't lying. Her resolve and selflessness were blinding.

'But…why?'

Angela giggled.

'I already answered your question, Fareeha.'

'But there must be more to it than that.'

A pause, and Angela's expression hardened, as if she was recalling something unpleasant. Fareeha waited for her, and just as her mouth seemed to resist speaking again no further, an explosion shook the entire hospital, chunks of the ceiling falling and dust filling the rooms instantly. The patients could be heard coughing and panicking at the sudden impact.

'No…' Angela stood up, dashing past Fareeha. The Egyptian followed without hesitation, but just as the two women began to seek out the source of the chaos, gunfire echoed within the building, the sound of granite breaking apart and flesh being torn into by lead overly prominent. Screams erupted, and Angela Ziegler addressed the patients, doctors, and singular guard in her immediate vicinity, thrusting her hand behind herself.

'Get everyone out the back without delay! Go!'

There wasn't time for questions. Action was needed, and Fareeha prepared her firearm, holding it next to her face.

'Has this ever happened before?'

'Never.' Was all Angela said. Fareeha could see the utter panic in the doctor's eyes. Patients were dying. The gunshots were pumping out at regular intervals. They were being raided. It seemed odd that the hospital would be attacked now, while Fareeha was present. Odd, or incredibly lucky, for Fareeha was no slouch when it came to combat. If she had her armour, it would all be over within moments.

The shouting and screaming persisted, and Fareeha knew proceeding _toward_ the source of conflict wasn't ideal, but there was no stopping Angela either, surely. She would evacuate the next room, and the room after, and as many rooms as she could.

'They're moving through the building quickly.' Fareeha remarked. She wouldn't leave Angela's side, but she also felt they were rushing into a perilous scenario.

'You are free to run. I won't abandon them.' Was the doctor's answer, and it wasn't unexpected.

They reached another room; the same space that Fadhil and Sara were in. The young boy was standing at the front entrance, as if the room's sole protector, with the others doing what they could to arise and stumble their way out. Just as Angela and Fareeha entered from the back, Fadhil was kicked over, and six soldiers dressed completely in black filtered through the doorway, guns at ready and movements almost robotic.

'Angela!' Sara shouted, and the other patients looked to their angel with desperate eyes.

'Who are you?' Angela demanded to know, but Fareeha instinctively understood what was coming next, and she grabbed hold of the doctor, practically tackling her out from whence they came. The gunfire resumed, so loud it rang in Fareeha's ears.

' _No! No! No!_ ' Angela shrieked, struggling within Fareeha's grip.

Talon. It had to be. There were too many of them as well. Fareeha couldn't do it on her own. They were trained killers; every single one. They hadn't hesitated to rout women, children, and the elderly whatsoever. Cold-blooded terrorists. The guards were little more than men with enough strength to wield a gun, otherwise, they were nothing compared to such savagery.

'We have to go.' Fareeha stated as calmly as she could, but Angela's hands were all over her, pushing her away fiercely.

'No! I will not!'

There wasn't time to argue. One thing Fareeha had over Angela was strength, and the Egyptian wasted not a moment hoisting Angela Ziegler over her shoulder and running as fast as her legs would let her. No matter how much Angela struggled, beating Fareeha with her fists and refusing to give up on her patients, Fareeha wouldn't let her go. She knew this was torture to the kind-hearted genius. It was torture to Fareeha. Fadhil and Sara were gone. Dead. Murdered. They were still children. They were so innocent. Fareeha barely knew these people and her heart was breaking. How else could Angela react other than with hysteria? She was already sensitive to death and violence, but this? This was hell on earth. This was why Fareeha wanted to become strong. This was what drove Fareeha to admire Overwatch.

'Put me down! Put me down this instant!'

That wasn't happening. Angela wasn't in the right mind to confront this situation. Would she rush to her own demise? That didn't seem probable. Angela had fought in the first Omnic Crisis. She must've been more capable of steeling herself against such devastation. Nonetheless, Fareeha wouldn't take the risk. She made it to the back of the hospital, but hesitated to make use of the exit. A second later, and gunfire was coming from both directions.

'They're waiting for us in the back as well. This is perfectly coordinated.' Fareeha breathed, knowing her single handgun wouldn't be enough.

'Put me down…' Angela uttered, absolute dismay weighing her intonation into despair.

Fareeha knew it was safe to do so, and when she felt the weight of Angela off of her shoulders, she could see the woman was destroyed. Her face said it all. Emptiness. She still held a certain level of attractive rebellion, but even Dr. Ziegler could understand how dire the situation was in her sorrow.

'Monsters…' Angela whispered.

'Yes. This was more than a random assault.' Fareeha fiddled with her phone, begging for a signal as she constantly dialed her pilot's number. It wouldn't be long until they were pincered by two groups of terrorists. 'They are likely coming for you, Dr. Ziegler. If it's Talon, I can almost guarantee it.'

'Obviously.' Angela hissed.

'I don't know if I can get us out of this situation. Is there a way to the roof?'

'No. Not from inside.'

Fareeha's mind pushed through every scenario she could. She had less than a minute or two. She could already hear the men in the back considering their next move, and the frontal assault team had little reason to be overly cautious now as well. She continued to dial her pilot's number, unable to talk now as Talon drew closer and closer. They would find Angela and Fareeha, and they would kill them both, presumably.

'Come with me.' Angela finally demanded in silence, pulling Fareeha to one of the washrooms. The back door began creaking open. They were officially pincered in. Seconds left. The doctor pointed at the wall where the makeshift piping was located, indicating the cracks and fragile state of the infrastructure. Fareeha didn't need to be told twice. She tackled the wall, her whole body jolting from the impact and her shoulder aching something terrible. But her adrenaline was already taking over, and she grappled Angela's hand, pulling the woman behind her as they fled. It was the tiniest of leads, but it was better than nothing. Angela struggled to keep up, her muscles not nearly as developed as the taller woman's.

'If we make it into the city we should be fine. My flight will be waiting for me. Are you coming?' Fareeha turned off the safety on her gun and fired a few rounds behind her at the pursuing force. There was a squad of them, and they were gaining quickly, their own retaliation sure to follow any moment.

'What choice do I have?' Angela huffed bitterly, gasping for air.

Talon caught up frighteningly fast, however, and Fareeha didn't gain the distance she wanted to before she was forced to turn and at least face her opponents. The streets were empty save for a few Iraqis who were quick to find shelter. This wasn't an abnormal occurrence; not in this part of the city. Angela's haven was too remote.

Fareeha held her gun forward, standing in front of Angela and biting at the inside of her mouth. She could take out maybe one or two, but –

A single bullet dug into Fareeha's ribs, the pain hitting her before her ears could even register the sound of the gun firing.

' _Ugh…!_ ' Fareeha screeched with her teeth grit, gripping at the wound and immediately feeling nauseous.

'Enough. You have me now. Leave her be and I'll go with you willingly.' Angela was standing in front of Fareeha, her arms outstretched.

The terrorists didn't even hesitate prior to firing at the good doctor, emotionlessly crippling her legs until she collapsed, veins protruding from her neck as she grunted in frustration.

The seeming leader of the group stepped forward, his size and armour differentiating himself from the rest of the soulless grunts.

'Heal.' He growled.

'Leave her alone…!' Fareeha screamed, but a quick kick to her shoulder made her crumble again, some men going to either side of her and restricting any further movement.

'Heal.' The man commanded in his thundering voice anew, nodding to Fareeha. 'Or we'll cut off her head.'

Fareeha's vision blurred. This was Talon. This was what Overwatch would stand against. They were demons. They couldn't be reasoned with.

Angela closed her eyes, and within seconds, bullets slowly emerged from her legs, clanging to the ground as though they were born from her skin. The blood remained, but the wounds closed up in another minute or two. It was like watching time go in reverse. Fareeha knew of the doctor's rumoured skill to self-regenerate, but even she was floored by just how powerful the ability appeared to be.

Angela opened her eyes, glaring at the man before he reached down and grabbed the doctor by the hair, bringing her face to his.

'Good. You may live. Kill the other one.'

'No!' Angela yelled, and just as she did so, something landed barely shy of the group, an explosion scattering dust and granite, giving Fareeha enough time to shrug off her assailants and get to Angela. She pushed her gun under the "leader's" helmet and ended him brutally, an eruption of blood and guck seeping out of the protection. The men readied their weapons, but another attack landed, practically hitting Fareeha and Angela. The two women began running from the scene again, more and more bombs going off behind them with shots being fired from Talon.

Fareeha looked up, seeking out their potential savior, and found the helicopter she had arrived on in the distant sky, already descending in what the Egyptian assumed was a clearing. With the cover fire persisting, Fareeha knew she was going to be safe. She recognized her weapon's rockets now, and despite there only being a few more rounds until it needed to be reloaded, its destructive capability would be more than enough for the time being.

She would get out of this alive.

She would save Angela Ziegler from Talon.

Fareeha's resolve could only be strengthened now.


	7. VII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

It was finally time.

She couldn't wait a second longer.

The noise from a crowd of peacemakers only served to solidify the moment Widowmaker sought. She was high on the roofs of King's Row, looking down upon her canvas. The mission's details were engraved in her memory. The setting was precisely as it should be. A night sky, illuminated by thousands of lights that dulled even the brightest star. King's Row was serving as the gathering place for Tekhartha Mondatta's speech. He would vie for equal relations between omnics and humans. He would make his plea. It would be the epitome of foolhardiness.

If Widow barely felt anything, how could mere machines?

It ultimately didn't concern her. All that mattered was the kill. Her heart had been slowed artificially, but even now it showed signs of elation. Nothing compared to the anticipation; nothing but the moment Widow knew her target was dead with a single, perfect shot.

This speech was important. It would shape the future of humanity's interactions with omnics for years to come. Thus, Talon had to stop it, for the human race would never become stronger through love. Conflict is what promoted evolution. It was the ideal process.

But Widowmaker truly didn't care. She located a single guard. He was stationed quite far from the target's location. They were being cautious. Admirable, but ultimately pointless.

Widowmaker exhaled shakily, full of anticipation, and began, springing from her location and leaving little for the guard to contemplate prior to his consciousness being reduced to darkness. Widow completely overwhelmed him in only a couple of well-placed hits. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking it all in with a pause atop her playground. She would spin her web about all of these buildings, drawing her prey and consuming them with little more than a blinking thought.

As Widowmaker moved into position, the crowd's low hum rose in support, Mondatta's speech beginning.

"Human. Machine. We are all one within the Iris."

The cheering exploded in delight, and Widow could only roll her eyes. Simpletons. If that's all it took to raise their spirits, they were hollower than Widowmaker herself. At least she had a brain. She could think for herself…

Something stabbed at her temple, and Widowmaker winced, spotting another guard. She shot her grappling hook straight across his face, taking the split second the man was caught off guard to back hand him into delirium, choke him to the ground, and knock him totally out cold with the butt of her sniper rifle.

A shiver. She was only getting started. Widowmaker allowed a smirk, moving methodically and reflecting her namesake further with the way she entangled her slender, flawlessly shaped leg with her hook's wire. Another breath, delaying the end of this wonderful event, and she descended, sliding lower in between two buildings upside down. She clicked her multi-faceted visor into place, her gun morphing into its advanced settings to provide the optimal line of sight and aim. Her breathing practically stopped, as she was groomed to do in this moment, and Widow adjusted her shot, Mondatta's head between her crosshairs with less than a 1% chance of error.

This was it.

It was too easy.

She didn't want it to be over already.

When would her next mission be? How long would she wait in her quarters? Why was her temple still throbbing? The future meant nothing to Widow, yet it remained a point of reference as her feelings swelled in desire of this kill.

He wouldn't even know what hit him. Foolish omnic. Pretending to _feel_ something. Playing at _living_.

Widow's top left eye in her visor began blinking, and when the multi-visual monitors opened, a blur of light passed through each of the windows within seconds. She would delay the climax after all. Was it a blessing or a curse?

The Tracer girl appeared again. It was just like last time. The mission was almost complete, and she showed up precisely in the nick of time. Widow changed gears without missing a beat, springing off the wall and navigating the air with pristine elegance, firing off her gun in assault mode as both she and Tracer danced midair, truly exemplifying their inhuman abilities as first-rate fighters from their respective organizations.

Widowmaker's heart soared alongside her body, and she crashed through a window, regaining a visual of her attacker before the girl appeared, smiling like the imbecile she was and spouting off more drivel.

'Trying to crash another party, Luv? Hah!'

Her eyes. Her eyes were so bright Widow almost had to squint. Her expression was full of life. Her lips moved with such joy despite the circumstances. This girl…irritated Widow. It was an emotion she barely even understood anymore, but ever since the museum incident, this Overwatch agent was difficult to forget. She was happy. Something more than the kill drove her, and Widow couldn't comprehend it whatsoever. The irritation was growing. It was festering. It made Widow's temple pulsate more distractingly.

The fight initiated once again, and Widow attempted to harvest her soul's desire to _feel_ something as she grappled up and through the building she had infiltrated, spinning as her hook pulled her toward the ceiling and firing erratically, not truly aiming, but simply swatting at the fly that would defy her mentally. Tracer was extraordinarily fast. The documents Widow had reviewed following the museum mission's failure outlined the girl's ability to manipulate time. She was a difficult opponent…which would only make the kill all the more gratifying.

Widow made it to the roofs of the old city in King's Row, and once Tracer reappeared, she entrapped her in a volley of shots. Again, Widow didn't bother to aim precisely. This was too enjoyable. Mondatta could wait. The mission could wait. This life and death struggle? It's all Widowmaker had anymore.

It was time to play with dinner. Could Tracer keep up?

Widow continued her barrage of bullets, backing up to the edge of the roof. She leapt, feeling the air rushing through her hair and skin. The city was now her home. It was her web. She grappled high, releasing the latch to capture the momentum building as she was thrust upward, spinning in the air and crushing another guard's face as she landed upon the next building.

 _This was it…_

His partner had more of a chance, but even while firing away like the pathetic fool he was, Widow easily slid beneath him, swipe-kicking his legs from under him and proceeding into a low dash away from the anticipated rounds of fire that followed.

 _Ah. Yes. This was what she wanted…_

Widow bounded across scarce pieces of infrastructure, her elegance and precision uncanny and impossible to hit lest these mere grunts had much more than an average man's aiming capability.

They did not.

Again, she was in the air, knees practically next to her ears as she caught sight of the man beneath her. Widow wanted to photograph this moment with her mind. His mouth was slightly agape. His eyes confused and in a near-panic. He knew his face was about to be crushed under Widow's heels. She wouldn't disappoint.

Widow felt the crunch of his head between her feet and the ground, but he had partners, and thus, she could revel in it no more. Her acrobatic skill was put on display for the friends, both of which were easily shot down. The final individual wasn't hit in a terribly vital spot, however, but that just meant Widow had the excuse she needed to kick him completely out cold, the crunch from his neck snapping as she punted him sending a chill through the woman's spine. Three more shots to close down any pursuers, and Widow turned, her visor snapping back down into place only to find her target on the move.

 _Perfect. Perfect. It couldn't be more perfect. A challenge. She could feel it…_

Widow turned and felt her lips twitch. _She_ was back. Let the game go on. Time for round two, and Widow, unfortunately, didn't have much more time to play around. She leapt from building to building, knowing Tracer was beyond any of the men Widow had taken out with such extreme ease. As she rolled upon landing a particularly long jump, Widow released a venom mine from her gauntlet, wondering how her little fly would deal with her lungs being filled with such toxic matter courtesy of Talon's personal genius doctor.

Tracer didn't even see it coming. As she passed by Widow's trap, she was instantly coughing and stumbling, tumbling to the ground while attempting to hack out the foreign matter that had forced its way into her precious little body. Widow could have turned and ended Mondatta right then and there, but she paused, feeling something akin to melancholy at the thought of her game being over.

 _More. She needed more…_

Widow stalked over to Tracer, placing her foot upon her shoulder and readying her rifle right next to the girl's face. The irritation returned. Her temple snapped. Her eye twitched. If Tracer was capable of what Widow had read, then it was time to tempt fate.

'Such a sweet, foolish girl.' Widow heard her own accented voice comment, leering down upon the same girl and wondering if this truly was all she had to offer. But in another second, Tracer's body glowed a pale blue and she disappeared, reappearing midair and firing at Widow with that ridiculous smile and peppy tone.

'What's that?'

Widow had to admit, the scope of her opponent's unique power was impressive, and it made her mind hesitate for too long. She evaded Tracer's shots easily enough, but the younger girl proved not to be a complete imbecile, her bullets hitting a gas pipe that obscured Widow's vision temporarily.

 _Good. Struggle. It was what she desired._

Widow heard Tracer grunt, and although her vision was still compromised, she caught sight of a beeping projectile just in time to shoot it a couple of metres before it could've ended her right then and there. It was the first shot Widow made the whole night that she actually took aim and used her godly skills to perform as needed. Her heart skipped, and her eyes widened in delight. The explosion knocked Tracer back and over the side of the building.

 _This was it!_

Widow followed after her opponent, falling in the air with her sniper rifle shouldered and naked eyes performing all the work she needed to land this next shot. She couldn't have planned it better if she had tried. Tracer wasn't smiling anymore. She wasn't giggling anymore. Her comedic eyes understood her predicament too well. Widow didn't miss when she put her mind to it. At this range, there wasn't a single percentile chance of error. The shining, pale blue orb on the girl's chest was the main source of her power and life, from what Talon conjectured. If Widow aimed for that, it was checkmate.

 _But she could dodge this, couldn't she?_

Widow clenched her finger down and felt the orgasmic sensation of her conclusive bullet being ejected from her. As predicted, Tracer evaded, reversing time yet again and opening the space up for Widow's bullet to fly straight into the crowd. _She_ wanted to slow time, if she could. Every time, she wanted to stop the sand from slipping through her unfeeling hands.

The bullet pierced through the air, splitting the space it occupied, and less than a second later, Mondatta's head snapped back and he flew to the ground, the lights upon his forehead flashing for but a moment prior to his charade of an existence ending.

Widow landed, her legs modified to absorb such intense impact, and she was gifted with yet another sight: Tracer flashing about in utter confusion, feeling her body frantically as if in disbelief that Widow had actually missed.

But Widow hadn't missed. The second shot she truly wished to make of the night was the last.

'Looks like the "party" is over.' Widow smirked, referencing the child's quip from earlier. The vision of Tracer putting the pieces together was too much. Chills ran Widow's body, and she knew she had made the right decision in releasing her fly from the web.

'No…' Tracer breathed, leaping to the edge of the building and taking it all in. 'No…! No, no, no, no!'

 _Oh. It was almost too much…_

She wasn't even close to giggling now. They were beginning to reflect one another just a little better. Tracer was furious, and Widow embraced her fury, allowing her to tackle her to the ground, grappling with her as they slid across the building, bodies entangled and souls dancing to a very different tune. Widow simply stared as the little girl slammed her into the ground, her head hanging over the roof. She hadn't even noticed Widow had latched her hook onto the side of the building during their scuffle.

 _Yes. Yes. Yes…_

'Why!?' Tracer screamed, and something pinched Widow's brain. Tracer's eyes were filling with water. This was a new form of irritation. Crying? How did one cry exactly?

'Why would you do this?'

Raw emotion. True emotion. Pain. Fear. Sadness. Despair. Anger. Frustration. Regret.

Widow didn't know how to respond. She felt nothing yet something. What was she feeling? The kill? No. But all she could do was laugh. She didn't know why. She didn't understand it one bit. She just chuckled, staring into Tracer's destroyed visage and registering a memory that made her laugh in discomfort. Her brow curled unnaturally, and she felt panic for a split in her timeline.

Lights flashed behind the two women, and Widowmaker's mind clicked back into place from its delusionary lapse. Talon would kill Tracer. Widow's ride was here, and the Overwatch agent was directly in its line of fire. Without a moment to reconsider, Widow pulled Tracer's face so close to hers she could smell her sweat, and spoke two words in her mother language that meant so much more than she could fathom.

'Adieu, Cherie.'

Widow pulled Tracer back off of the roof, flying through the air once again, and slammed the girl into the side of the building, using her previously latched grappling hook to leave her opponent where she lay. Widow returned to the building's top, reclaimed her gun, and boarded the Talon airship. As the doors closed over her piercing, yellow eyes, Widowmaker stilled her slowed heart.

 _It was over…_

 _The notion of life was as brief as ever…_

 _But her little fly guaranteed another dance worth living for…_

 _Worth feeling_ alive _for…_


	8. VIII: Mercy

Mercy

The human psyche had a curious way of dealing with trauma. Only when the immediate danger had passed did the mind take a moment to gather itself and comprehend precisely what had come to occur. Angela Ziegler was more than aware of the letdown that would threaten to ruin her. She felt it more than most. She had to work twice as hard as anyone to not let it consume her.

Helicopters were somewhat primitive at this point in human history, but that didn't mean there couldn't be some solace found in how noisy the method of transportation was. They were more difficult to track as well; perhaps the primary reason for Winston opting to use the loud piece of machinery.

Angela tried to focus on the sounds all around her, closing her eyes and leaning back in the chair as if to give in to her exhaustion. Fareeha was a good woman, and she had tried saying little things to Angela since they boarded, but the doctor couldn't respond adequately. Her mind was cracking, and it was taking every distraction she could focus on in solitude to prevent her from screaming.

She was going back to Overwatch. Talon had given her no choice. No matter where she went now, they would eventually find her and hurt everyone around her without a second thought. It wasn't a difficult formula. There were only two options, and Angela wasn't ready to humour the second. Her abilities and scientific discoveries were too valuable not to target. She had changed the tide of battle so frequently during the first Omnic Crisis that she was surprised Talon hadn't targeted her earlier. Perhaps they were simply biding their time. If Talon was a patient enemy, Overwatch had their work cut out for them.

Angela grimaced, subduing the urge to be overly obvious with her internal struggle.

She didn't want to rejoin Overwatch. She didn't want to become a criminal. What good could she do behind bars if they were found out? Overwatch's disbandment was ugly, to say the very least. Blackwatch's cancerous involvement couldn't have been completely removed so easily. Although Angela agreed with Overwatch fundamentally, she feared history would repeat itself, and that would be mortifying.

As mortifying as accepting the fact all those patients had been slaughtered because of her presence and nothing else?

Angela's eyes squinted shut, and she felt Fareeha's hand tentatively touch her shoulder. It was really too loud to converse comfortably, and the headsets made it so that the pilots would hear anything said as well, so the exchange was kept quiet, with a sympathetic expression being the only mode of communication Fareeha managed. Angela appreciated the gesture, but she didn't want to think about it.

"We'll be landing in Ilios to change our ride and take a breather. This bird might be hot, and we can't take any risks. Still a couple of hours to go, but just wanted to let you both know."

Ilios. That was in Greece. Overwatch Gibraltar must've been the station they were going to. That made sense if Winston was the instigator for all of this.

Angela insisted on keeping her eyes closed, and although it didn't feel as though she was sleeping soundly, she must've been fading in and out of consciousness, for the helicopter blades soon slowed to a halt, the notion of elevation dissipating and the sky already having turned to night. Angela's breath felt sour, and that was the true indicator that rest had found her somehow.

'We've landed.' Fareeha said quite seriously, unbuckling herself and removing the headset. 'Do you need assistance, Dr. Ziegler?'

'Taking off a seat belt and headpiece? I think I'll manage.' Angela jested, but Fareeha seemed confused.

The door to the helicopter snapped open, and the two pilots greeted their guests.

'Winston reserved a small room at a hotel nearby for the two of you. Our new flight will be departing tomorrow at dawn so that we can make it to the base by about midday. We're going to be performing a circle check of this ride before handing it over to the necessary powers that be for disposal. Make sure you don't forget anything.'

'Where will you two be sleeping?' Fareeha asked for Angela, since the doctor was curious as well.

'Oh, we have a room, too. Don't worry about us. There are a few good places to drink around here, so, we'll be enjoying some of Greece's finest for a bit. Shouldn't pass up the chance, right? This area is fairly peaceful, so, it's best to soak it in.' The slightly more talkative of the two men tapped at his phone, causing Fareeha's own to beep at the reception of information.

'There. The coordinates of your arrangements are in that message. I kept it somewhat cryptic just in case. Can't be too careful, right?'

* * *

Checking in to the hotel felt wrong. It was a beautiful facility, perfect for the destination and vacationers alike. The pearl whites and smooth architecture gleamed with professional, authentic care. A person could only feel like one of the wealthy daring to stay in such a place. Gorgeous plants perfectly arranged about, expensive paintings with perhaps even more valuable frames, a shining, mirror-like floor.

'I suppose this is the place.' Fareeha said quietly, not seeming overly taken aback by its design. She took the lead without hesitation, approaching the front desk with her single, not terribly large suitcase in tow. Angela heard her speaking to the front receptionist, but their words floated through her mind like the wind. She couldn't grasp any of it without effort; effort she didn't feel inclined to put forth.

This felt wrong.

Why was she staying at a premium hotel in Greece while her patients' bodies lay strewn about back in Iraq? It made the woman sick. It always did. Logistically, she knew staying alive meant helping more people, but with Talon murdering so easily, how many could she save in contrast to the terrorist's vicious ambitions? She was outnumbered. Those who wanted to harm, and those who wanted to help; the scales were ever tipped.

'Hey.' Fareeha's face was close, her scent sweaty.

'Yes?'

'I have our room keys. Here's yours.' The taller woman handed Angela a card, and continued to lead the way. She was somewhat curt; rather different from Ana and her sarcastic, charismatic persona. There was something almost masculine about her, truthfully, despite her obvious feminine build and smooth, bronze skin.

Angela followed, feeling like she was dragging her feet that weighed double what they should. She was a wreck. She had seen war and death during the first Omnic Crisis, but nothing so personal and morally antagonistic. Omnics gone berserk were one thing. Witnessing a small army of humans slaughtering helpless souls young and old was another. She was expected to be strong, but the act was sinking the doctor into a familiar, terrifying abyss she had no desire revisiting.

'Here.' Fareeha swiped the card and opened the door for Angela, waiting until she made her way in before proceeding herself, flicking on a fancy lamp and sighing outwardly.

'Thank-you.' Angela forced herself to say. She found one of the two beds and sat upon it. It was more comfort than she had experienced in weeks; perhaps even months. The mattress formed around her backside, sinking yet supporting in the perfect way.

'Would you like to take a shower?' Fareeha asked, pulling at the curtain and looking outside.

'I'm fine…'

A beat, and then the Egyptian insisted.

'I recommend it.'

'Do I smell foul?' Angela asked, pushing the pitch at humour for herself more than anything.

'N-not terribly.' Fareeha stumbled, her skin tone shifting around her cheeks. 'It's just, I always find such a cleansing to be beneficial when I am troubled or upset.'

Angela thought about it, and had to agree that the luxury of a hot shower would be quite pleasant. It still felt wrong, but guilt could only weigh the experienced doctor down for so long. She needed to stand. She needed to steel herself. She needed to avenge in the way she knew she could; not sulk forever. This pain in her chest and heart wouldn't go away, just as all the other scars refused to, but she also couldn't stop living altogether. It's why she modified her own body, wasn't it?

'I will take your advice, Fareeha. Thank-you.' Angela stood, still a sense of disconnect from her body disorienting her, and she made it to the washroom, closing the door softly and being startled by her reflection in the mirror. The nanomachines within kept her jarringly youthful, but even those couldn't hide how hollow her cheeks appeared. Discarding her clothes only provided more evidence that Angela had seriously neglected herself during her stay in Iraq. How hadn't she noticed before now? Her ribs were grossly prevalent, and her breasts had shrunk notably. Her hips stuck out, and her thighs lacked muscle. It didn't bother Angela Ziegler aesthetically _too_ terribly, but she _did_ care when her body wasn't being properly cared for, and the nanomachines could only do so much.

It took Angela a moment to start up the shower, but it was simple enough to figure out. Soon, hot water was pouring over her naked form effortlessly. She didn't have to pray the pipes were still working. She didn't have to endure a chill the entire time. Soap, shampoo, and a sponge were all laid out for her. Angela simply stood, however, head tilted back just slightly, and allowed the heat to sprinkle about her. She closed her eyes and tasted some of the fluid ricocheting this way and that, her lips slightly parted.

Her cheeks were soon lined with a very different kind of water, and her mouth clenched, her chest convulsing and hands gripping at her heart. She felt the floor upon her knees, and the water trailed over her nose, dripping down and joining its brethren. She sobbed lightly, sniffing and shaking with despair and anger.

Talon. A new and terrible enemy. Unlike the omnics, they knew exactly what they were doing, and the rage filled Angela the more she fathomed how low her fellow humans could fall. Crying would solve nothing, but Angela understood the act's value as an emotional relief mechanism as well, and thus, she allowed her feelings to overwhelm her rather than restrain them further.

She was thankful that the washroom's fan and the raining water itself drowned out her sorrow.

* * *

Angela stepped out of the shower after the pruning of her fingers just started to take place. She wrung out her blonde hair and wiped her face down with the towel available. However, when it came time to change, the slightly calmer doctor realized she was without clothes. Indeed, she hadn't had the opportunity to bring anything with her whatsoever. Putting on her outfit from her stay in Iraq was out of the question now. If she did, she may not have bothered with a shower in the first place.

Surely, the housekeeping staff had _something_ she could change into for the time being. But what about the following day? What would she wear to Overwatch's H.Q. in Gibraltar?

Angela wrapped a towel around her slender body and exited the steamy washroom, finding Fareeha on her phone and looking somewhat intense…although that wasn't completely extraordinary.

'Did you want to speak with her? She's here.' Fareeha cut herself off, nodding to Angela. 'Do you mind?'

'Not at all.' Angela held out her hand, taking Fareeha's phone and trying to smile. She noticed the younger woman's eyes avoiding her, as if she may be embarrassed by Angela's lack of clothing beyond the towel. A funny girl, this one.

'Winston, I presume?'

"Uh…yes."

'Why do you sound sheepish?'

"Ahem. Ms. Amari told me what happened. You…have my condolences."

Angela breathed out, her body's spasm at the recollection powerful against all her efforts.

'I do not agree with fighting hate with violence, but I have seen with my own eyes what form of evil Talon embodies, and I do not wish to ignore the terror they wish to spread.'

"So, you will join Overwatch again?"

'I do not have a choice, Winston.'

"You do. If you simply need a safe place for the time being, I will assure a necessary haven is reserved for you here. You do not have to fight."

'Heheh. That's very kind, but you say that knowing what my answer will be, so the offer becomes somewhat null, wouldn't you agree?'

"…The world needs us, Angela."

The sincerity in her old friend's voice was enough to send goosebumps over Angela's bare skin. She bit at her lip, but then nodded slowly.

'Yes. It needs a hero…'

"Overwatch _is_ that hero. With new recruits, like Fareeha, we can save humanity from Talon. I'm working on Jack, Reinhardt, and others. It won't be like last time."

'You can't make that promise, Winston.'

"But…"

'The moment you include humans in any equation, you do not have a stable formula. The variables are ever changing. You know this.'

"I…I suppose you might be right…"

'But yes. We have learned some things since the last war. We will adjust our actions accordingly.'

"Precisely!"

Angela felt a tug at the corner of her mouth. His honesty was truly enlightening. It was refreshing. It's what she needed.

'I'll speak with you further tomorrow, Winston.'

"Good! Good! Oh, and before you go, what do you think of Fareeha? Will she be a fit for our team?"

Angela glanced down to the daughter of Ana Amari; the legendary sniper. Fareeha's clear eyes looked back. She had resolve, that was without a doubt.

'I think she will be a perfect candidate for the revived Overwatch team, yes.'

Fareeha clearly attempted to withhold a broad smile from spreading across her face, but she failed mostly, looking all the more adorable because of the breakdown.

"Thank-you. Thank-you, Angela."

'Goodnight, Winston.'

Angela managed to click the call off and handed the phone back to Fareeha, who held the device tenderly.

'Um…Do you feel a bit better?'

'Yes. I appreciate you asking. I have managed to bury my feelings for now. I suppose it's best I become used to doing that again.'

'Oh…'

'Hm? You do not agree with my method?' Angela challenged, wondering a bit about her roommate.

'If I might be frank,' Fareeha spoke just slightly lower. 'It does not seem healthy.'

This impressed Angela.

'You're right, of course. But it's a survival mechanism for the time being.'

A beat, Fareeha fidgeting with her phone absentmindedly. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

'If…if you ever need to vent, Dr. Ziegler, I think I can be a good listener.'

'Truly?' Angela raised a brow, amused and bewildered at once.

'I've been told as much, anyway…'

'I do not doubt it.' Angela smirked. 'You choose your words carefully, in most cases, and are very considerate toward others. I don't dislike such traits.'

Fareeha didn't respond, but she was obviously content with the praise.

'Perhaps I might take advantage of your offer now, then?'

'O-of course!'

Angela stretched her arms out, scanning her own body.

'I am currently in a precarious position as far as my clothes are concerned. Can you provide some advice?'

'Oh!' Fareeha almost fell backward, immediately going to her suitcase and rummaging through her outfits, extracting a black t-shirt and pair of red shorts, since the weather was somewhat toasty. 'Would this do?'

Angela held up the plain shirt and shorts. They weren't exactly her style, but due to Fareeha's size, they would most assuredly fit…if a little loosely.

'My thanks.' Angela shrugged before proceeding to the washroom and changing with some haste. She didn't want to be alone, apparently, for her thoughts frightened the doctor. Despite what she said, her feelings wouldn't remain confined in her distant psyche. Angela returned to Fareeha, the shirt quite large over her frame, the already wide collar slipping off her right shoulder, while the shorts struggled to stay just barely on the doctor's hips even with the string meant for tightening them pulled in hard.

'I must look like a fine piece of work.' Angela self-deprecated intentionally, feeling some warmth on her cheeks as Fareeha blinked in seeming interest curiously.

'Er…We might have time to purchase some clothes for you tomorrow before departure.' The younger women offered.

'That would be ideal.'

'But…You are still every bit the angel I viewed upon our first encounter, Dr. Ziegler, if you do not mind me saying.'

Angela thought it was a joke, at first, but Fareeha's gaze made it clear she was very serious, as was to be expected. This made the doctor's pulse jump, and then she giggled shyly.

'An overstatement if ever there was one, but that was a rather smooth line. If you were a man, I might be in trouble, no?'

'I-I meant nothing flirtatious! I just…do not want you to feel bad about yourself, Dr. Ziegler.'

'Then contribute to my comfort by calling me Angela, if you would not mind. You did it before once, and I did not mind the familial notion of your seeming slipup.'

'…It does not seem proper.'

'I don't care for such formalities. I am just as human as you.'

'A human who has saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives.'

'Directly, somewhat, but you have done similar acts of heroism in the Egyptian army, correct?'

'I don't think they are quite comparable.'

'Well,' Angela sighed. 'Before this conversation becomes even more cyclical, let us just agree that you call me by my first name and leave it at that.' Her tone got the message across, and Fareeha eventually nodded.

'I will do that…Angela.'

'There. Not so difficult, is it?'

'I just…have always looked up to Overwatch. By association, I've always admired _you_ and the other heroes that truly made a name for themselves during the first Omnic Crisis. I mean, you can self-regenerate! How amazing is that? I dreamed of joining the fight, and just as I was almost able to apply, the disbandment took place, and my future didn't look quite so certain.'

'I see.' Angela took a seat on the opposite bed. 'That was poor timing. Overwatch could have used more individuals like yourself, I believe.'

'I hope I can help now, at the very least.'

'You will. You pilot the prototype Raptora Mark VI, correct?'

'Yes.'

'Such a powerful weapon in the hands of a level-headed woman like yourself? I have faith it will assist us all.'

'I will do my absolute best not to let you down, Dr. Zieg – er…Angela.'

Angela smiled. She had a feeling she would like Fareeha based on their first serious conversation, but these new interactions only confirmed her theory.

'So, I would suspect a shower might be a pleasant idea for yourself as well, yes? We best go to bed sooner rather than later, for I predict a busy day tomorrow.'

'Agreed. I will do just that. Call for me if you need anything at all, Angela.'

'I will, Fareeha.'

Angela observed Fareeha subconsciously as the other woman withdrew some more clothes from her luggage. She was so very tall, for a woman, and moved about in a rather virile way, lacking the idealized "grace" expected of their sex in most cases. Angela suspected the army had that effect on a girl, but it wasn't without its charm when paired with the Egyptian's naturally attractive visage. Her raven-black hair and tanned, smooth skin were aesthetically pleasing, and her build was athletic, but not without the curves a man would find irresistible. She hadn't mentioned a partner of any kind, but Angela wondered, for but a second, if this honest individual couldn't have a boyfriend somewhere in the world. She seemed focused on work and bettering herself, so it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she _was_ single, which seemed like something of a waste.

Not that Angela could talk, if she were to allow some slight vanity and confidence into her thoughts.

The doctor fell back onto the bed, putting her arm over her eyes and allowing her mind to follow such a train of consideration to allow for a viable distraction. She had been on a few dates herself, but absolutely none were worth a second outing. She could tell within the first few minutes if there was compatibility or not and, unfortunately, the conclusion was generally the latter. Jack had called Angela "picky" at one point, while Gabriel was quicker to claim she was "stuck up". "Not desperate" was what Angela had countered with, and that seemed to shut both men up quite hastily.

It was the truth. Perhaps it's why Angela found herself connecting with Fareeha so easily. They had goals, dreams, and aspirations beyond attracting the attention of the opposite sex. It was a fun game to play, on occasion, but hardly the primary focus of either girls' life. Angela derived much more fulfillment out of helping others and developing new ways to heal the sick. Flirting, dating, and all the complications that such concepts brought with them could be occupied by others. Angela had better ways to spend her time, in her mind. At thirty-seven, despite the nanomachines' ability to maintain a youthful appearance of half her actual age, Angela simply didn't care enough to bother, and it seemed like another world not worth investing in anymore.

A softness consumed Angela's body then, and the doctor realized she had completely dozed off, lost in her subconscious thoughts. A blanket was pulled over her form, and she squinted just barely through heavy eyelids to see Fareeha climbing into her own bed, a tight pair of black short shorts giving way to a surprisingly pleasing view prior to the light being switched off completely.


	9. IX: Tracer

Tracer

'I failed, Winston. I couldn't save him.'

"…It's all over the news, Lena. It's not your fault. I know you tried your best. Was it that Talon sniper?"

'Yep. It was her.'

"She's incredible if she could beat you."

'She did…fair and square.'

"Hm."

'…I'm sorry.'

"No. No. You don't have to apologize. Are you okay?"

'Honestly? Not really. My accelerator needs some maintenance. She roughed me up a bit.'

"But you survived."

'Barely. And…I think…she let me, to be totally truthful.'

"Let you? I don't suspect so. Not her."

'Right? It sounds crazy, but…I don't know.'

"…You need to clear your head? Take a moment. Get a drink. I'll have a carrier pick you up tomorrow. Breathe a little bit, okay?"

'Okay. Okay. I can do that.'

"Visit your friend."

'…Maybe.'

"You should."

'…I really screwed up here, huh, Winston?'

"The blame is not completely on you, no. But the impact on the future will likely be detrimental to our cause. I'll need you for what I anticipate is coming."

'Besides Talon's daft insanity?'

"…Besides that, yes. I'd rather not say over this line, though. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Be careful with the chronal accelerator until then."

'Gotcha.'

"Chin up."

'I'll try…'

Tracer allowed the dead line to linger in her ear. The chaos from Mondatta's assassination was ongoing, even from a fair distance. The crowd that had gathered was devastated. The news anchors were earning their keep; the security staff members were counting the days of theirs. Mondatta promoted peace and prosperity between humans _and_ machines. He was the face of such a line of thinking. He founded the Shambali and was the anchor for what Overwatch believed was the correct path for humanity.

And now he was gone.

It was perhaps Talon's greatest victory to date, and it was because Tracer had misjudged her time and space in the heat of battle. Widowmaker had completely outfought and outsmarted her. It was a crushing defeat. It was becoming more difficult to shoulder with every passing moment.

Lena loosened her goggles and let them rest around her neck, wiping at her eyes in frustration and trying not to scream with all the breath in her body. Winston was too kind to say it, but she knew this was more than just a little "detrimental" to precisely what she was fighting for. It was frustrating. It was embarrassing. The high Lena felt upon thwarting Talon from successfully capturing Doomfist's gauntlet was now completely negated. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so humiliated and full of regret.

Lena subconsciously stood in front of a familiar apartment building's door. She entered the foyer and buzzed up robotically. They were such practised motions by this point she could do it all with her eyes closed. They were blurred a bit anyway.

"Lena?"

'Heh. How'd you know it was me, Luv?'

There was a beat, and then the secondary doors clicked open.

"Come up right away."

In the back of her mind and deep in her heart, Tracer knew this was a mistake. As she took the elevator up to the fifth floor of an almost antique building found in the old part of King's Row, the familiar, smoky fumes of the place filling her nostrils, Lena was more than aware she shouldn't be seeing Emily. They had left their relationship ambiguous during their last chat. Who they were to one another remained elevated in limbo, alongside Tracer's existence without the device strapped to her small chest.

This most recent fight reminded Lena that she was still very much human, and she could die quite easily just as well. Widowmaker almost assuredly "let" her live. Why? Tracer didn't know, but the situation itself leant the time leaper's mind to a vein of thought and consideration she couldn't ignore any longer.

Before Lena could get around the corner of the hall leading to Emily's place, the girl was dashing down it, her hair like fire behind her pretty head. She embraced Tracer with just enough force, holding the girl's shaggy hair in a grip of iron.

'What happened? Are you alright?'

She could tell instantly based on Lena's singular comment downstairs. It made her heart wrench further.

'Sorta kinda?'

'So, not in the slightest.' Emily scolded, holding Lena's hips.

'Meh.' Lena shrugged, her eyes burning suddenly.

'Come with me. Let's get you a warm drink.'

'Okay…' Lena muttered, hating that she found Emily so attractive even with the thoughts swirling in her jumbled mind.

Emily's apartment was very much her. Neat, somewhat homey, yet with a touch of refinement that revealed a hidden level of intellect and appreciation for innovation and literature. It was a familiar apartment. The soft browns, blacks, and flashes of accentual colours – like red and orange – only amplified the sense of nostalgia. It was one of the few places Lena felt truly safe and secure. But she couldn't drag Emily into any of this. Talon was ruthless. As it was, Winston would need to keep an eye on the young woman. She was a weakness for one of Overwatch's most capable fighters.

'Okay. I'm guessing it's safe to assume you were involved with Mondatta's assassination?'

'I tried to stop it, yeah.' Lena sunk into Emily's couch as the other girl began making some coffee and tea. The cushions were flattened just a bit. They had made love on this couch more than a few times. The thought hurt in many ways.

'…I'm sorry, Lena. I…I do know how important he was to Overwatch's beliefs.'

'He pretty much was the figurehead for exactly what we're fighting for. This is a massive blow and I let it happen. Trust me, I'm upset, but I'm not goin' to have a pity party for longer than, say, maybe a half hour more?' Lena tried to laugh, but it was hard. She wanted to giggle this away, but that would be diverting her eyes from the truth.

'You're allowed to be upset, you know?'

'That's not how I roll, Luv. No surprise, right?'

Emily sighed, bringing over the hastily-made drinks and placing Lena's steaming coffee on the coaster she and her girlfriend had picked out together.

'Who did it?'

Lena hesitated. She had already put Emily in the line of fire by coming here, but considering it was immediately after the assassination, she prayed Talon wasn't keeping tabs on her yet. For all they knew, she was dead even. She needed to come to terms with the fight she had lost, but what she also needed to say afterward made it difficult to take advantage of Emily's kindness.

'Don't worry. I can handle it.' Emily grinned, sipping her tea gingerly and looking too beautiful.

'Her name's Widowmaker. That's her codename anyway. She's some kinda super advanced assassin. Blue skin and everything. Sorta daft, huh?'

'Blue skin?' Emily flinched back, and she wasn't one to be easily surprised.

'Yup. There isn't a crazy amount of detail on her, but something about her heartbeat being slowed and such.'

'You never were one for reading the fine print.'

'Hey!'

'But it would make sense. An assassin that isn't compromised by their own bodily functions? I can't imagine what procedures she had to go through to become like that.'

'Right…'

Emily cocked her head slightly, leaning in.

'What else?'

'She's a sniper, and she's also an amazing strategist and fighter. She totally beat me, Em. I mean, I can jump through time forward and back but she still managed to stop me. If I hadn't recalled at the last minute, the bullet that killed Mondatta would have done me in for good.'

Lena saw her girlfriend's eye twitch.

'She was that lethal?'

'It was _so_ frustrating. She could've finished me off a couple of times, but…she didn't.'

'Why do you think that is?'

'Psh. Your guess is as good as mine, but…'

'But what?'

'When I had her, and I was screaming at her, asking her "why?", she gave me a really weird reaction.' Goosebumps pervaded Lena's body the more she thought about the look Widowmaker expressed in that bizarre moment. It was jarring and uncanny, barely making sense and mixing up the Overwatch agent's memories with every recount.

'Really?'

'Yeah. Like…she lost her mind for a second. She laughed at me, but her eyes were…um…just so full of pain, confusion, and…maybe fear? I can't really remember anymore. I might just be making this up. Ugh…'

'Mm.' Emily sipped her tea, her brow furrowing in contemplation. 'Again, it sort of makes sense. If she was experimented on or genetically altered, there are going to be side effects, right? She can't be sound in the head anymore.'

'Yeah?'

'Definitely. Or…maybe definitely. I don't know her, obviously. Do you have a picture?'

'A small one.' Lena brought out her phone, always impressed by the endurance Winston's custom-made protector exemplified by coming out of such a skirmish with no issues whatsoever. She tapped at one of her e-mails, bringing up the brief information she had been given before the museum's mission. Lena then tapped at the attachment, a partially blurred image of Widowmaker's severe face filling the screen.

'That's her?'

'Yup.'

'Bloody gorgeous, isn't she?'

'Can't deny that. Bet she'd be even more irresistible if she wasn't a cold-blooded murderer.'

'But I see what you mean.' Emily went on, squinting.

'Huh?'

'Her eyes. They seem vacant of emotion, but there's something definitely there. It's too deep for me to say anything else, but you weren't seeing things, I think.'

Lena stared at the picture. It was hard not to struggle with the conflicting emotions within. There were too many, and the girl didn't like to be frazzled so easily. She wasn't drawing the same information Emily was from the image. She was too influenced.

'I have to beat her next time.' Lena said to herself, and Emily placed her cup down with a harsh clack.

'You will. I know you will. You're an incredible woman, Lena. And I'm glad you're not thinking something foolish like it would've been better if the bullet hit you instead. You understand the flaw in that argument, right?'

'Y-yeah.' Tracer's face burned. Of _course_ she considered that scenario, but it was too morbid and dark for her, personally.

'This Widowmaker lady would have killed Mondatta the moment you were out of the picture. If she's as good as you say she is, nobody else in this city would have stood a chance.'

Lena felt Emily's hand rest on her shoulder, the flight jacket making it difficult to feel the touch as much as she wanted to. There was a pause between the two young women, and every time Lena attempted to meet Emily's eyes, her stomach flipped and her mouth became dry. However, as always, Emily seemed to know exactly what her girlfriend was thinking, and it dug into Lena's already fragile state of being within that tear in time.

'Now, you're going to break up with me for sure this time, aren't you?' Emily's voice hardened, and her eyes were already becoming glassy despite the act she tried to present.

Lena's throat tightened, and she bit at her lips.

'I gotta, Em. I don't want to, but it's for the best…for both of us.'

'I know.' Emily sniffed, smiling painfully. It was so hard to look at, but Lena knew she had to. 'I know. I've had some time to think about it, and it's only fair to you…and to me.'

'…I love you, Em. I really do. If…after all this…I'll come say "hi" and, you know, maybe something might work out. But…don't "wait" for me, kay? I don't know what's going to happen in this war, but our enemy is much tougher this time around. I can't…be distracted. Today proved that.'

'Yes. It did. For you to be so shaken up, I know this is beyond both of us. You're a hero. I'm just a girl in King's Row that was lucky enough to tickle your fancy for a spell.'

Tracer's teeth hurt she was gritting them so.

'I want to leave on a good note, Em. I don't want us to fall apart because of resentment and such, you know?'

'I agree. I came to the same conclusion, honestly. I guess we're two peas in a pod, huh?'

'Absolutely…' Lena laughed, but she was almost crying.

'Look at us? Such a mess. Heheh…'

'Right? Complete wreckage.'

Lena and Emily touched one another's hand, their fingers interlocking and their eyes meeting in mutual, blurred understanding. They were both sniffing and wiping their eyes with their free arm, but they were also smiling, hopeful yet scared.

'Can I make a selfish request, then?' Emily's voice cracked, and it was adorable.

'Sure, Luv. Anything. Really.'

Red painted across Emily's freckled face, and she glanced downward shyly, a rare showing of vulnerability that always made the more aggressive Tracer wild.

'Can we…just one more time? As a final farewell for now? I-I understand if you're not up to it. This night's been crazy, but, well, I guess you're rubbing off on me or something, because – '

Lena couldn't kiss Emily fast enough. She held her girlfriend's angular face and felt their lips melding in a familiar embrace of affection. It was foolish, she knew, but it was the perfect outlet, and they both wanted/needed the connection. Lena was leaving an old life behind. She couldn't bind Emily to her with such an uncertain future. Emily was bright, attractive, and too good to leave in a state of limbo. Did Lena want a clean, understanding break, or a messy deconstruction of everything they had created until now?

As Lena's hands pushed up and into Emily's loose sweater, feeling her modest breasts and peeling back the final layer of material that separated her dexterous fingers from the hardened tips of her girlfriend's body, she knew she wanted this. When she would experience such raw, unfiltered affection from another in the near future again was nothing but uncertain. Departing in this fashion was a perfect close to a chapter Tracer didn't know she wanted.

'Always straight for my chest, huh?' Emily breathed in a sensual whisper, her lips still grazing Lena's.

'Can't help it, Luv; they're too perfect to resist.'

'Yours aren't anything to hide either.' Emily knew how to unfasten Tracer's chronal accelerator, and although it always made the Overwatch agent a little nervous, her girlfriend was ever careful, placing the device not too far away, and handling it with the utmost of gentility. She pulled at Lena's leather jacket, shuffling it off, peeling down her yellow spandex with a scowl.

'This outfit is a pain.'

'Feels like another layer of skin, you know? Helps with the whole hero thing.'

'Right. Right.'

The girls helped one another strip down until only their underwear remained, and then Emily giggled, observing Lena's stringy pair.

'That's so not you.'

'Ugh. Tell me about it. But anything else rides up until there's no tomorrow, so what choice do I have?'

'Still, a thong? I mean, it's pretty sexy, trust me, but completely out of character, so everything's cancelled out.'

'It's all the same when we're naked, isn't it?' Tracer shouted, pouncing on Emily to hide her embarrassment. The girls were pressing atop one another a moment later, Lena kissing Emily desperately; regretfully. She moved her fingers within her girlfriend's panties, stroking her moist body and teasing the redhead's womanhood purposefully.

'H-hah…' Emily gasped in between navigating Lena's mouth. Her groans of submission always pushed Lena further, since Emily was normally so composed and even intimidating to most.

'Does that feel good?' Tracer giggled.

'You…tell me.' Emily countered, applying the same pleasure to Tracer, feeling her stomach and groin turn with delight at the touch. 'Oh. You cleaned up?'

'Had to, Luv. A-ah…Tight suit…and all…'

Both pairs of underwear fell to the floor soon thereafter, and Lena grinded her hips into Emily's, their bodies responding in an experienced, rhythmic motion. Lena persisted in playing with Emily's entrance, and the girl's hand tickled her lover's back, their breasts touching and merging.

'S-stop being so cruel…and put your beautiful fingers inside me already…!'

'Heheh! You asked for it.' Lena smiled, pressing her forehead against Emily's and steadying her heart for her favourite part. She wanted to experience the sensation of Emily's warmth and savor it one last time. She wanted to bring Emily with her in a recall and do this over and over and over.

Overwatch. Talon. Mondatta. Omnics. Fighting. Death. Widowmaker. They could all wait for one night. After this, Tracer would focus on her duties as an Overwatch agent. She would think about Emily, surely, but knowing they were no longer officially together would help ease the anxiety and worry. This way was the path they both agreed on. It wasn't the easiest route, but it was the one Lena and Emily would tackle together while apart.

Emily's voice screamed at the end of it all, and Lena extracted her hand, licking her fingers if only to see the pretty, naked girl below her blush uncontrollably. She held Lena tightly, their nude forms slightly sticky from sweat. Lena could still notice the miniature spasms coursing through Emily's lower abdomen, and she grinned, squeezing the other girl tightly. She was about to release her, but Emily held on, keeping her face hidden.

'I'll miss you.' She muttered quietly, a rare showing of true emotion from the fairly strong person.

'I'll miss you, too, Luv. Really.'

'…Thanks. For everything.'

'Stop. You're goin' to make me cry.'

'You're already crying.'

'So are you.'

'You can't prove it.'

'…Guess I can't.'

Lena sniffed, holding Emily and locking this memory away forever.

'Make me proud.'

'Will do.'

'…Goodbye, Lena.' A beat. 'Tracer.'

'Bye, Em.'


	10. X: Pharah

Pharah

Fareeha was completely disoriented when she awoke. Her mind was hazy, but she knew she had slept very well. She pushed herself up in the unfamiliar bed and rubbed her eyes, the buzzing in the back of her head already dissipating. After another moment or two, the Egyptian looked about the dimly lit room and noted Angela Ziegler completely angelic in her own bed. The cover Fareeha took it upon herself to comfort the woman with barely moved from the night before. For the doctor to still be sleeping, she must've been exhausted, and that was surely saying something considering Angela's inability to relax at times, it seemed.

Fareeha stretched, gave Angela one lingering glance that lasted longer than she thought it would, and then stealthily slid out of her bed, slipping through the room's door to the hallway. She had been to enough inns to know that breakfast and coffee would be served only for a certain amount of time, and considering it was just past eight in the morning already, Fareeha also knew she needed to make haste, since her and Angela's departure would be within the hour. It was likely they _wouldn't_ have time to shop for some clothes for the poor doctor, and while that bothered Fareeha, Angela likely hadn't had such a good rest in quite some time. For her health, perhaps this was for the best.

Fareeha's cellphone beeped, the default sound for her notifications, and she checked the e-mail that followed. As if responding to her concerns directly, it was from the primary pilot, who went by "Johnny" in his message. It was a laughably generic alias.

"Our new bird is taking longer than anticipated to prep. Recalibrated meeting time is at 1300 hours. Take a look around the area, but try to keep a relatively low profile. Later!"

Fareeha breathed a sigh of relief, and responded with a defined "affirmative", reaching the small dining area and beginning to prep her and Angela's coffee. While the blend brewed, she compiled a plate of fruit consisting of grapes, strawberries, and oranges, and then put together another one of various breads, such as a bagel, cinnamon roll, and toast with a side of jam. She wasn't sure what Angela liked, so she attempted to obtain a fair variety for her. There was only an elderly couple enjoying a quiet breakfast together in the nearby sitting area, but Fareeha still knew she must've given off a rather gluttonous impression.

"…Government officials are still investigating Tekhartha Mondatta's horribly unfortunate assassination. There are few leads, with only one of the critically injured security officers stating that he was assaulted by what appeared to be a blur of black and blue. He claims it was nearly impossible to make out his assailant, but the consensus is that the terrorist was acting on their own, making it even more difficult to pinpoint their origin. Whispers of the crime organization known as "Talon" continue to persist, and considering the amount of skill analysts claim the shot must've taken in order to land in such a minute, critical area upon Mondatta, there is notable unrest within the world as the conclusion that a criminal organization houses such talent at their disposal is reached. After a short break, the weather will be next."

The newest member of Overwatch gave pause, taking in the pictures and information sliding across the television. The elderly couple simply shook their heads collectively, saying something somewhat indistinct to one another.

Fareeha Amari knew of Tekhartha Mondatta. How couldn't she? He was known all over the world for revolutionizing the way omnics could and should be perceived. Although Fareeha had some reservation when it came to the mechanical entities, she couldn't deny there was more to the machines than one may first conclude. What truly concerned the agent was Talon's involvement and, more vexingly, the inclusion of the sniper involved. Although the details surrounding Ana Amari's death were scarce, Fareeha had managed to determine – through her own connections in the army – that she had been shot, also potentially by a Talon sniper. Of course, Talon likely had more than enough assassins talented at such things, but for a genius-level markswoman herself to be downed, there were very few individuals capable of beating Ana Amari, from what Fareeha understood, no matter what bitterness rested in her heart. Thus, Mondatta's death picked at a scab in Fareeha's mind that she couldn't resist itching.

However, that could wait. Once Overwatch's base in Gibraltar was reached, Fareeha might get some answers then. At the moment, Angela Ziegler's comfort came first. She had been through an ordeal, and Fareeha was taking it upon herself to look after the other woman. Two individuals didn't survive such a scenario without becoming just a little closer, even though Mercy kept her true considerations and feelings quite close, hiding her complex thoughts behind a motherly and calming – if a little sad – smile.

Fareeha managed, through something of a juggling act, to get back into her room, and was slightly relieved to find Angela was up, although that occurrence must've been seconds prior, for her eyes were still practically closed, and she hadn't done anything about the fact her borrowed shirt was slipping even further down her arm, creating quite the tantalizing image in the form of her natural cleavage. Fareeha blinked and turned her gaze, wondering why she was so drawn to the other woman's form in general once again. She chalked it up to admiration and envy. Angela was everything Fareeha wanted to be as a previous Overwatch agent and, more accurately, a hero.

'Good morning, Dr. Ziegler.' Fareeha managed, giving Angela time to adjust to her surroundings.

'Good morning, Ms. Amari.' The doctor sighed, rubbing her forehead.

'Sorry. Angela.'

'That's better.' Angela grinned, her eyes somehow twinkling despite the lack of much lighting besides that which was seeping through the drawn curtains.

'How did you sleep?' Fareeha went on, placing the food and drinks on one of the bedside tables.

'I managed. Admittedly, it was a better rest than I've known for some time, although the dreams were erratic and nightmarish on occasion. It's to be expected. Not even I can fully control my subconscious quite yet.'

'I see…'

Angela shuffled over to the food and steaming coffee, still not having fixed her shirt.

'You brought us something to eat and drink? You're too kind, Fareeha.' The woman beamed, almost child-like.

'I wasn't sure what you preferred, so, I brought a little bit of everything.'

'How considerate. I am not overly picky, to be honest. Doing what I do, you can't truly afford to be.'

'That makes sense.'

Angela drank a sip of her coffee, and then added a splash of milk and sugar. She also took a bite of a strawberry, the juices speckling her lips a slight tinge of red. Fareeha found herself watching again, her cursed eyes lingering about no matter how much she attempted to force them away from the only spot in the room they shouldn't be observing so heavily.

As if responding to the gaze, Angela finally adjusted her top a bit, kindly not calling Fareeha out as the Egyptian flinched internally.

'Are we not leaving yet? Our pilots mentioned a departure at dawn, did they not?'

'Y-yes. At 1300 hours we'll be on our way. There were complications with our transfer, by the sounds of things.'

'As there always is.' Angela shrugged bemusedly. 'That gives me a chance to perhaps purchase a new outfit for the time being, I suppose. You're somewhat broad, aren't you? I am not accustomed to feeling so exposed, and you were struggling with telling me about my compromised state, correct?'

'For the most part…' Fareeha struggled to lie. 'But yes, I was assuming we could help better equip you for the rest of the trip. You were forced to leave everything, and that must be trying.'

'Materialistic value means little to me. Functionality and purpose are far more alluring.'

'That doesn't surprise me, now that I have learned more about you.'

'Some perceive me as vain, I'll have you know.' Angela continued to consume her food slowly, yet consistently. It filled Fareeha with a bizarre sense of fulfillment, knowing she was the one to have brought the breakfast to her.

'Vain?'

'Well, I'm thirty-seven, but I look barely older than twenty. My peers and rivals felt the need to condemn me in the past due to this fact. However, I was simply using nanomachines to preserve my body longer to further my research and give me more opportunity to help people around the world.'

'Would implanting such technology in others help further your cause?'

'I'm glad you asked that, Fareeha.' Angela smiled playfully, and it made Fareeha's chest tight. 'Yes and no. The amount of conditioning, not to mention the cost, is exponential. Additionally, I am a living experiment for the longevity of such technology. Who knows what form of negative impact such tampering will ultimately have on my body? As it is…'

Angela's voice trailed off, and she took a bite of her croissant.

'As it is…?' Fareeha probed after enough time had passed.

'Never mind. I apologize for rudely dismissing my thought pattern, but I shouldn't discuss it now.'

Fareeha wanted nothing more than to push for more information, but she respected Angela's privacy. They weren't close enough to step over that line quite yet. Once they reached Overwatch Gibraltar, perhaps they wouldn't see one another much at all. The thought bothered Fareeha more than she desired it to.

'I understand.' Fareeha submitted.

'Thank-you.' Angela smiled again, and that was enough for Fareeha to not regret her decision. 'Now, as much as I'd love to traverse Ilios wearing something so frivolous, would you be so kind as to lend me, perhaps, one more set of clothing, Fareeha?'

Both women were just about done eating by the time Fareeha started digging through her suitcase for Angela. Fareeha herself was something of a minimalist, so, she didn't actually have much to spare. Nonetheless, she found a maroon sweater and simple black pair of tighter-fit pants that seemed sufficient. As expected, the vision of Mercy dressed in (slightly too large) clothes that belonged to Fareeha gave the Egyptian a strange sense of satisfaction.

'The phrase "boyfriend's shirt" comes to mind.' Angela laughed, observing herself in the mirror from various angles. She looked adorable, and what she said only served to push Fareeha into more modes of discomfort.

'Have you ever done such a thing, Fareeha? I imagine you would require a rather larger man to adequately pull off such a look. Someone like Reinhardt?'

'P-perhaps.'

'Is your current significant other capable of providing you with this sensation?'

Fareeha almost bit her tongue answering.

'I am not currently involved in anything romantic.'

'Ah.' Angela giggled a little. 'We are _both_ women married to our work, then. It is a small wonder I feel a level of comradery with you. How pleasant. We're a rare breed, some might say.'

Fareeha didn't know how to respond. She was happy Angela was seemingly coping with the events from the day before fairly well, but she was also annoyed that the doctor held such a shield about herself emotionally. What was she actually thinking and feeling? Why was Fareeha so curious to the point that she felt ill?

'I've…been on a few dates somewhat recently, and had relationships in the past, but they didn't lead to anything substantial.' Fareeha found herself saying, unclear with her reasoning for expounding upon the subject.

'My romantic endeavours from the rather distant past at this point had similar conclusions. I don't really bother anymore. Men are intimidated by me, for the most part, and it makes for strained conversation on both ends no matter what the circumstance. It's hard for me to shut off the "doctor" side of my personality, and I understand that contributes to my inability to find a sound mate. The fact I don't feel the need to be positively appraised by another individual on a regular basis nulls a sense of desperation as well. Overall, at thirty-seven, romance is quite low on the list of priorities.'

Fareeha observed Angela shrug, a knot forming in the younger woman's throat. Why was this conversation causing her such anxiety? Did she feel sorry for Dr. Ziegler? Did she simply not know how to reply? Fareeha opened her mouth, feeling the dryness of it suddenly.

'That…is quite the loss to men everywhere, one could say.' Fareeha flinched back at her own words, and she hoped Angela couldn't sense the increase in her own blood pressure. What on earth was she even saying?

'Oh? Another rather complimentary comment from Ms. Amari? Best be careful, for I may believe _you_ to be interested in me given enough of such reinforcement.'

'M-me!?' Fareeha's eyes widened, her brain buzzing. 'No. That…that's not…'

Angela giggled, touching Fareeha's shoulder.

'I'm teasing you, Fareeha. I must admit, you are quite amusing, and I'm sorry for drawing humour at your expense. I'm also sorry if my insinuation insulted you or made you uncomfortable.'

'…I'm not upset.' Fareeha could only say, trying to meet Angela's clear eyes. 'I was just…surprised.'

'Well, you seem like the slightly uptight type, so, I should've known better.'

'No. Well, perhaps, but…' Fareeha bit at her lip, and then met Angela's gaze finally. 'If it helps make you feel even a little better, please tease me all you like.'

A beat, and then Angela was giggling; truly laughing. She held her stomach, covering her mouth, her eyes smiling brightly. Fareeha grinned, knowing she had somehow calmed the legendary hero known as Mercy just a bit.

* * *

"Our current promotion is buy three of any item and get the fourth free!"

"This just came in, and I assure you I only have a limited quantity. Your timing is perfect."

"A white dress for the pretty lady? You would charm everyone with such an outfit!"

"Buy one get the second half off!"

"Spend 200 euros and get a 20 euro gift card!"

"Everything is 10% off!"

"If you need anything, just let any of our staff member know."

"Ladies! Ladies! Over here!"

'I normally have the patience for such things, but I'm not even interested in staying in many of these shops.' Angela took a seat on a small bench near a fountain. This part of Ilios was certainly a tourist attraction, and many of the residential businesses made sure the majority of vacationers knew it. It _was_ a little overwhelming, and Fareeha was just happy she wasn't the only one that felt this way.

'Once we arrive at our destination there might not be another opportunity to find any suitable clothing, right?'

'It's possible; don't worry. We're not closed off from the world. Honestly, this sweater and the pants you have provided me might be sufficient, if you wouldn't mind my wearing of them until we make arrival. Perhaps one more shirt and a pair of bottoms would be ideal. Oh…' Angela paused, shaking her head and smirking.

'What is it?'

'Well, not even I enjoy my current lack of…undergarments.'

Fareeha's cheeks flared. She completely forgot. So, right now, Angela wasn't…! In her clothes…

'Considering I am the one doing without, I find it curious that _you're_ so flustered. Heheh!'

'I am just…sympathetic.'

'That I do believe, from what I know of you. I suppose I should remedy this particular predicament. Would you like to stay here or join me? I shouldn't be long.'

'I will accompany you.' Fareeha felt it the most natural course of action, and soon enough, the two women were making their way into a little store that specialized in such things. Fareeha quite rarely invested much time or money into such a frivolity, considering her occupation, and the sheer scope of even a store like this was overwhelming when one thought about its primary purpose. Pastel colours were everywhere, with miniature, holographic images projecting the various articles that could be worn on a perfectly proportioned, idealized body of the female shape. Fareeha watched as the images filtered through an array of styles, her dark, wide eyes taking in the pictures with curiosity. She imagined Angela's face and body instead of the dolls before her, and the Egyptian ripped her eyes away, not sure where to look anymore.

'This city is more advanced than I anticipated. They're implementing some of the latest advertising technology. How exciting!' Angela had already procured a few ensembles, by the looks of things, but Fareeha disallowed herself from making more foolhardy observations. She tried to find something interesting to keep herself occupied, but her current situation made that somewhat impossible as well.

'Hmm…I suppose this will do for now. I don't care for anything overly extravagant.'

'Right…'

'Do you need anything?' Angela asked, going to the counter without even bothering to try something on. She either knew her measurements excessively well, or she just didn't care that much.

'I'm fine.'

'Oh? I saw a black pair that made me think of you in that corner. Is that odd?' Angela turned to pay, and Fareeha was thankful for it, because she knew her face was burning. It was just admiration. It was simply being star-struck. It would all change by the end of the day. There was no point imagining anything other than being acquaintances was transpiring. Mercy was known for her selflessness and kindness. Fareeha was just another patient. Her emotions were behaving erratically because of the way her life had been so completely flipped within such a short period of time. That's all any of this was.

'Fareeha?' Angela's voice cut into the other girl's mind, and she flinched back into the present.

'Yes?'

'I don't have any money.'

* * *

'I owe you one, Fareeha. How nearsighted of me. When one is used to having some magical method of paying at all times it is quite unsettling when a new reality takes the old's place. I will pay you back.'

'You do not have to.' Fareeha softly. So, even the great Mercy had a _slightly_ clumsy side. 'It was my fault as well for not anticipating the scenario. You have so much on your mind as it is, the least I can do is continue to support you.'

'Ah…' Angela almost sighed, her tone becoming distant. 'I am not quite accustomed to being the one supported. Are you attempting to take _my_ role?'

Fareeha smiled, shrugging.

'Perhaps.'

'Well, regardless, I do appreciate your help today. You have made what could've been a difficult time much more bearable.'

'Good.'

A pause, with the pleasant sun and gab of other tourists and local residents circulating about in an illusion of perfect peace. There was, curiously, a lack of anything omnic, but Fareeha payed the detail no heed.

'Now, might I ask one more favor?'

'Anything.' Fareeha blurted, retracting her enthusiasm instantly. 'Er…Yes. Of course.'

'Heheh. This outing has left me a little parched. Would you mind stopping to get a drink? Something fruity sounds pleasing.' Angela was already proceeding to a snack stand, the rustic nature of the establishment immediately charming. It was strange, for Angela was such a prestigious individual, yet she was more than satisfied with street vendors. She ordered her shake with precision, treating the cashier and mixer with the utmost of courtesy and respect. It was just her nature. Everyone was equal in her eyes. Nobody stood above another. Fareeha was one of the rest. She knew this.

Fareeha and Angela sat down with their refreshments, and checking the time, Fareeha knew they couldn't relax for too much longer.

'I know we have but half an hour.' Angela confirmed, the sound of her voice serious. 'Just…let me have a moment longer like this.' She pursed her lovely lips about her straw and sucked up the red-tinged concoction until the stream disappeared into her mouth. Fareeha went with more of a grape flavour, but she was too distracted, yet again, to know what it tasted like yet.

'It's fine.'

'But you're a stickler for punctuation and rules, yes?'

'…A little.' Fareeha relented, knowing it was pointless to lie.

The breeze was nice. The smell of the ocean was nice. The view…was nice. Fareeha rarely took the time to relax, but this could've been worse.

'Can I admit something?' Angela started again, looking just a little less confident.

'Please.'

'Well, firstly, thank-you for the drink. I owe you yet again.'

'It's really nothing.'

'Nonetheless…' Angela smirked, but her glorious smile faded. 'In any case, I have to say…I have my reservations about rejoining the fight.'

Fareeha nodded slowly, finally sipping her drink simply for something to do.

'It is an admirable role to fulfill, if used for the correct purposes, but I did things I am not proud of when fighting last time. With very human influences involved now, I fear I will be presented with an ultimatum in relation to my personal vows. I don't want to make such decisions again. I agonize over them to this day.'

'I…can somewhat understand.'

'Can you?'

'A little, although you are a much better person than I.'

'Debatable.' Angela snickered melancholically. 'However, I understand it is an inevitable procedure, and I will do my part on a grander scale for the time being. I just hope that history does not repeat itself.'

'Winston seems capable.'

'He is.' Angela nodded. 'He is. His judgement of you was quite sound, from what I can determine. If our group is filled with individuals like yourself, I have little to fear. Alas, that is the epitome of wishful thinking.'

Fareeha blinked, hiding her embarrassment behind her drink.

'If…if you need someone to talk to during our stay…er…I am available.' Fareeha felt herself standing before a cliff, knowing it was a silly thing to say. But then a warm hand touched her own, and she glanced up to find Angela's powerful gaze meeting hers.

'That may very well be a necessity on occasion. Who knows?'

It was ambiguous and kind, so what more could Fareeha expect?

Angela visibly seemed to shake off the brief moment of vulnerability and reequipped her mask of undaunting prowess.

'Either way,' Angela's voice rang cheerfully to any who heard only her words. 'You have already proven a better date than any I've had in the past, so, there's that, at the very least.'

'Really?' Fareeha raised a brow, trying to match Angela's pace even a little. 'Then I am afraid you have had terrible luck.'

Angela laughed, and the fact she didn't disagree immediately eased Fareeha's chest achingly.

'I wouldn't say that.' Angela giggled as she finished her shake. 'You just happen to be an agreeable person, as far as I am concerned.'

And Fareeha wished their departure would be delayed again.


	11. XI: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

"Report." The cold, distorted voice demanded through a small computer. Widowmaker was seated by herself in what could be called an interrogation room. The voice was familiar, although one that few were allowed to hear. Only the most elite of Talon agents spoke with the perceived leader of the organization. His or her face was completely unknown. His or her existence was sometimes even questioned. The leader of Talon was an idea, and one born from necessity, much like that of any God.

'Mission accomplished.'

"That much is evident. Were there complications?"

'Overwatch agent "Tracer" attempted to interfere. She was dealt with.'

"Dead?"

'…Presumably.'

"The question is binary. Rethink your response. What is the answer?"

'No.'

"Why?"

Something in Widow pinched, but it was so brief, and so numb, she questioned the sensation's existence to begin with. "Why?" indeed.

'She amused me. I didn't want to break my toy just yet.'

"Amused? Did I hear you correctly?"

'…Yes.'

"For one to be "amused" one would require a semblance of emotion. One would be required to "feel" something. Are you claiming you felt something during your mission today beyond the notion of success at completing your life's purpose?"

'Vaguely. As my name suggests, it is the excitement of the kill. Just as the black widow "feels" nothing, truly, that does not mean there isn't a level of elevation prior to its strike. It is an inevitable adrenaline rush that all hunters experience. I simply chose to create a source of entertainment for future endeavours.'

There was a long pause, Widowmaker sitting perfectly still with a posture that any artist would kill to capture in a mold. Her mind was quiet, lulled into boredom and distance. There was a fog in her eyes, a disconnect from reality like no other. Hours could have gone by, and only her stomach would have hinted at the need for sustenance.

"Take off your clothes. Take everything off." The practically mechanized voice demanded suddenly. The only lapse of time between the demand and Widow peeling her skin-tight outfit and equipment away from her idealized form was the instant required for her brain to register what was asked of it. After no more than thirty seconds, Widow stood completely naked, her blue-toned skin alien despite the nude proportions a Goddess would be envious off. Her dark violet hair hung about her shoulders in a mess, her ponytail undone, locks of the unnatural mane resting upon her unbelievably shaped _derriere_.

Widowmaker nearly sighed. Shame wasn't a word she understood anymore. She comprehended the allure of sexual activity and the drive it provided for most human beings, but she wasn't human anymore. She cared not for her body beyond its capabilities as a weapon. Desire didn't register within Widowmaker. Despite the few Talon agents brave/stupid enough to attempt to "flirt" with Widowmaker in any way, the infamous sniper found a rock on the side of the street just as appealing.

"Good. However, you are to kill any Overwatch agents on sight from this point forward. Your mission's success appeals to my tolerance for your slight misconduct. Nonetheless, a checkup with Moira is called for. She has been notified. See her immediately. Go as you are. Do not deviate from your primary role again. Understood?"

'Is this supposed to be a punishment?'

"If you are as you should be, it is nothing more than liberation."

The computer flashed off, and Widow was left with the sound of the steel door's latch snapping open. She turned to the camera in the top righthand corner of the room and pointed at it, jerked her arm up as if she shot the piece of technology, and then made her way out of the room. She knew the surveillance team was getting off on her at this very moment. A gaze from Widow's cold, dead eyes might cease any further self-pleasure, or at least make it slightly less desirable…not that Widowmaker truly gave a damn.

Doctor Moira's sector of Talon's current main base of operations was a fair distance away. Widow was only reminded of her lack of clothes whenever a less than disciplined Talon agent or grunt couldn't resist the urge to ogle her. Not a singular person said a word, and the assassin preferred it that way. Only the new recruits really dared to converse with the woman ever. Even completely naked, Widowmaker traversed her terrain with a level of confidence and elegance that generated an impenetrable shield about her person. She didn't care whatsoever, and such a statuesque persona couldn't easily be penetrated.

" _Why would you do this?_ "

The words echoed alongside the face that delivered them. Another poke, but was it even real?

Widowmaker rounded a hall and eventually found her way to the beginning of Moira's own personal wing of Talon's base. The woman was one of Talon's most dangerous members, capable of experiments that directly refuted whatever "greater plan" there was for humanity as a whole. She pushed the boundaries of genetic understanding, and manipulated the concept of life on a whim. Moira was one of the few individuals within Talon that Widow didn't look down on. She was a genius, only ever legitimately being matched when spoken of next to Angela Ziegler. Even then, their fields of study were similar, but vastly opposing at the same time. Moira was a key player in Widowmaker's development, after all, which spoke volumes for her motivations as a "doctor".

Widow approached Moira's office, and before she could knock to notify her presence, another latch snapped loose, and Moira's voice fed through the intercom.

"It is unlocked."

If Widowmaker was akin to a spider, one could easily compare Moira to that of a snake. She gave and took life with the venom that was her practise. Quite literally, she was capable of at once healing and killing with but a flick of the right arm when fully equipped for combat…which was rare. Moira's voice slithered through the speakers in its at once calming yet condescending tone, and Widow felt her lip twitch as she pushed open the door. The doctor was sitting at her desk, but didn't look up, scribbling away at a massive collection of papers. She worked two pens at the same time, choosing old methods for documentation rather than using digital information when working through formulas and theories. She seemingly split her brain's processing into two areas of deliberation, a feat impressive in its own right.

Widow remained at the entrance for nearly two minutes before Moira finally looked up. She gave a slight roll of her eyes when her patient's lack of clothing became apparent, and nodded to the spare lab coat hung on the back of the door from whence Widowmaker came.

'Put that on and sit down, if you would be so willing.'

Widowmaker didn't care either way, but assumed some annoyance on Moira's part, and thus, did as was suggested, pulling the white jacket tight before seating herself.

'One moment.' Moira muttered, finishing her work in another few minutes. She stacked the papers together and piled them on either side of her desk prior to placing her hands together and resting her long, sharp face upon the back of them.

'Widowmaker. Are you being a naughty little girl?'

If even Widow's innate reactions coursed with a semblance of irritation, she could imagine how others felt in this woman's dominating presence.

'I don't understand what you mean.'

A beat, and Moira slid her chair to the left, tapping at her computer and bringing up a projection that was apparently the file report of Widowmaker's mission statement. Not only that, but a few videos were playing, clips of Widowmaker in action at King's Row. She was recorded. Talon was keeping a _very_ close eye on her. It was understandable, however, for the mission _was_ of great import. Widowmaker recalled the quick scenes that were captured. One, in particular, beyond the satisfying way she dismantled half a dozen guards within minutes, displayed her and Tracer combating near the end of Widow's mission.

There was silence other than the light buzz of the electricity required to power such machines. Widowmaker's blood vibrated, and she waited for Moira to speak. Finally, after too long, the doctor did.

'Seven.' Moira uttered matter-of-factly.

'Pardon?' Widow responded as was expected of her, lacing her question with her native language's French accent.

'I am no expert, I will admit, but I personally count seven times you could have killed that girl. Here.' Moira paused the video displaying the fight, enhancing the size of the image and pausing in between seconds of footage. 'Here. Here. Here. Here. Here. And…here. Do you disagree?'

'I do.' Widowmaker shrugged. 'I count fifteen opportunities.'

Moira chuckled, her brow furrowing but still slightly relaxed in amusement.

'Of course, you do.' Moira's heels clicked on the floor as she crept throughout the darkened room. 'Thus, the question we all want answered is: why?'

'I explained "why?".' Widowmaker's temple throbbed, and the girl's desperate expression screamed into her ear once more. 'Our leader surely informed you.'

'He did. It's why my time is being wasted now. He suspects you're in need of some…tuning. He desires my professional opinion.' Moira tapped at her chin, moving to directly in front of Widow now, looking down at the woman with her slits for eyes. 'There was an incident shortly before your departure, yes?'

'Perhaps. I do not remember clearly.'

Moira's grin stretched to her ears.

'Naturally. How pitiable.'

'Do I require treatment, or can I go now?' Widowmaker finally asked, bored beyond reason.

'Not yet. I want some answers to just a few questions first. Do you have time?'

It was a rhetorical question.

'How do you feel?'

'I don't feel; that's the point, isn't it?'

Moira shook her head.

'Your emotions and physical receptors to discomfort have been dulled to near extinction, but not even I can eliminate them altogether lest you become an omnic completely. You "felt" excitement at being met with true adversity on the field of battle, correct?'

'…I suppose.'

'And that is, presumably, why Tracer lives to fight another day. Is this also correct?'

'Yes.' Widow thought about fighting the Overwatch agent and her chest fluttered, if just barely. 'Yes, it is.'

'Ah…' Moira's eyes widened, as if she realized something. 'You're a predator, indeed. Perhaps that is all there is to it, but I am…unconvinced. The human psyche is a resilient beast, primarily when handled by the well-bred. You were worth the effort, but goodness me, you're quite the test subject when all is said and done.'

'…And this means?'

Moira rolled her eyes, and then she placed both hands on either side of Widow, her forked tongue practically tickling the sniper's neck. She was wrapping her body all about her patient, constricting her in place without even actually touching her. She moved her lips to Widow's ear and manipulated them slowly, hissing a singular name into her sense of hearing.

'Gerard.'

Widow almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the gesture, but then a sharp pain stabbed into her temple, as though Moira was digging a knife into her brain, and the stone-cold assassin's eyes flickered, nausea overtaking her, as it had before without her recollecting.

'Now…how do you feel?' Moira went on, but Widowmaker could barely make out her words. Her mind was on fire. It hurt. This was pain. This was discomfort. This was something Widow was too unfamiliar with. Her neck tightened, and she grit her teeth, gripping at the chair with white knuckles.

She knew that name. Deep in the locked-up memories she thought were gone forever, she _knew_ the name Gerard.

'Who…is that?' Widow grunted, hating this level of vulnerability.

'Answering my question with another question? Not quite. However, I am willing to make my own deduction. You're in evident pain. How…troublesome.'

'Who is he? Why…do I know that name?' Widow hissed anew, an emotion swirling within her veins that urged a sense of aggression she didn't think she could harness anymore.

'It is irrelevant to your current circumstance.' Moira sighed, playing with some vials and what appeared to be medicine of some descript. She handled her equipment with all the gentility of a mother, observing her work lovingly. 'This is a new string of your prescription. The goal is to eliminate these silly outbursts in the future. They're becoming tiresome. I have more important tasks to contend with beyond your petty emotions that refuse to die.'

Widow blinked, shaking her head and breathing heavily. The rush of sensations was overwhelming, and she knew she was blacking out. She fought her body's desire to somehow adjust to the flurry of receptors long dormant becoming so active so easily. Widow stumbled into Moira's desk, pushing at the papers, her lap-coat loosening open. She felt the wave of embarrassment, tugging at the jacket while also trying to focus on Moira.

'Who…the hell…is Gerard?' She repeated, the black specks becoming more prominent as the ringing in her ears reached a fever-pitch.

'Your husband.' Moira's words slurred in deep caves of darkness. 'Your late husband, more accurately.'

'What…?' Widow's eyelids weighed her down, and she didn't even realize her knees had buckled under her, bringing her to the ground. Her heart quivered, and a blitz of images flickered too quickly to make anything of. All they did was stir a discomfort like nothing before. Widowmaker wanted to vomit.

'Did you not hear me? I said Gerard is your late husband.' Moira readied what looked like a tiny gun, loading it with the new medicine. 'You killed him. Don't you remember? Hm. I suppose not.'

'Killed…my husband?' Widow's eyes began to water. She was losing it again. She wasn't built to handle such thoughts, feelings, and emotions anymore. They were as foreign as a virus. Her body rejected it all. Yet, at the same time, she also _wanted_ this discomfort. It proved…

Something pricked Widow's neck and a cold fluid numbed everything else.

'A pity you won't recall a single part of this conversation tomorrow. Stubborn woman. Gerard _had_ to marry someone with so much…passion. A normal human would be a vegetable by now, but your usefulness is nearly voided by the trouble it takes to refine Talon's favourite tool. Alas, one cannot question the effectiveness of such equipment; that I shall not argue.'

Widow's face slammed into the ground, but her voice scratched to the service, climbing through the glacier that flooded her insides.

'I'll…kill…you…' She grunted, and Moira laughed heartily as well as sincerely.

'Oh, I would _love_ to see you attempt such a feat, little spider.'

* * *

 _'My dear, never before have I been so mesmerized. Not only did you dance with the precision expected from that of a professional, but the pure emotion you evoked…my heart continues to beat against my chest in elevation.'_

 _'Good sir you honour me with your praise. Thank-you very much.'_

 _'I have seen your dance for quite some time now. I apologize if I appear nervous. You are something of a celebrity to me.'_

 _'Oh?'_

 _'Even now, I am stunned by your beauty. This is a meeting I will not soon forget. I appreciate your time.'_

 _'…What is your name?'_

 _'My name? It's…Gerard. Gerard Lacroix.'_


	12. XII: Mercy

Mercy

Angela started the water and allowed the simply obtained warmth to cascade about her skin. The heat rose quickly, and she was forced to adjust the temperature by turning the "cold" side of the tap on just slightly. The washroom was abuzz with noise. Hand dryers, toilets flushing, and general gab from the various occupants were all a strange form of comfort.

Life.

It had felt like so long since she was surrounded by frivolity such as this. Angela added soap, lathering her fingers throughout themselves, still smelling a hint of blood no matter how much she washed them. Her practise had stained her skin, but her involvement with Overwatch had tainted it.

'Out, spot. Out, I say…' Angela murmured.

She exited the public space and found Fareeha leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, a few shopping bags at her feet, and her demeanor as a whole rather intimidating considering what Angela knew of the young woman by this point. Angela grinned to herself, sighing inwardly in an attempt to maintain the image she wanted all to see. The fact she had revealed even a hint of her true thoughts to Fareeha was surprising to the doctor, and she steeled her resolve to maintain the appropriate distance from the other girl.

'I'm back. Thank-you for waiting.' Angela said cheerfully.

'It was not a problem. But I do think we should get to our plane once we pick up the rest of our stuff from the inn.'

'Of course. I suppose I should have waited until we returned, since we're only a block or two away, but when you become an old spinster like me, nature has more influence than one may prefer.'

'You must be joking. You're a far way from such status.'

'…That's a good answer, Fareeha.' Angela giggled, but she could see that look in this woman's eyes again. Fareeha was trying to understand below the surface on display, and truthfully, it scared the doctor. She didn't want to let anyone in. Other than that one mistake she had made, she hadn't failed since. She was a guarded soul, and life was much simpler that way. What Mercy wanted to do with her time had no space for intimate friends or romantic relationships. Once she was working with Overwatch again, she would do everything in her power to distance herself from anyone and everything. Saving as many people as possible; that was her goal. She didn't want or need help beyond the practical. Her emotions were her own. They always would be.

Fareeha's phone beeped as the two women checked out of their hotel, Fareeha's suitcase in tow and temporarily swung to the side of the road so that she could check her messages.

'What does it say?'

'Hm? Oh. Just relaying the coordinates of our rendezvous point.'

'Ah. Then our tiny vacation is over?'

'It would seem that way.'

'How unfortunate. I was enjoying myself.'

'Were you?' Fareeha poked at her device, possibly deleting the information for security's sake. Angela rose her right brow, shaking her head a little.

'What girl doesn't enjoy purchasing some tastefully expensive pieces of fabric for none to see but herself?'

'By choice.' Fareeha reminded Angela, and the older girl laughed.

'We can certainly go with that.'

'I doubt almost any man could resist you, Angela. You must know this by now.'

'And you also know that my expectations as well as standards are rather colossal. Thus, I'm looking forward to my spinning days once I am unable to move about the world as I am now.' Angela paused, touching her lips playfully with her index finger. 'Unless _you're_ willing to humour me with your company should I get lonely at night from here on out.'

She didn't know why she constantly felt the need to tease Fareeha. Perhaps because it was so easy. Perhaps to create _more_ distance between the two of them. Perhaps to become more alien to the curious and wondering woman. Whatever the answer, Fareeha's flushed face was an expected reaction. She was so straight-laced it was hilarious.

'I-I could never…'

'Surely.' Angela shrugged. 'It was a joke in poor humour at your expense once again. I'm so wicked at times, aren't I?'

'At times, yes.' Fareeha gathered herself back up, and Angela giggled a little more once the girls were on their way through Ilios anew. However, they had barely left their temporary neighbourhood before Fareeha's phone began ringing. Being the courteous individual that she was, Fareeha pulled over to the side a second time, tapping her device and bringing it to her ear.

'Hello? Winston? Yes. We're fine.'

Winston was such a worrywart. With him in charge, Angela might have to take on a more authoritative role. Unless Jack or the late Ana returned, it would likely fall on Angela to be the realist, shaping Overwatch's personnel into efficient and dedicated members. Winston was just too soft sometimes, and that was coming from someone who had dedicated her life to saving others.

'We're almost at the rendezvous point now.' A pause. 'What? What do you mean?'

Angela watched Fareeha's face, noticing her strong, impressive features shifting into confusion.

'I see. Yes. I understand. We'll be careful. I'll notify you should anything change dramatically. Thank-you.'

'Trouble, it would seem?' Angela asked, stepping in close and leaning in to look at Fareeha's phone.

'Our time of departure concerns Winston. There shouldn't have been any complications. On his end, everything went through fine. He's looking into it, but he suspects some information was leaked and Talon is on to us.'

Angela bit at her thumbnail, glancing about the area. They were leaving the main residential and commercial sector of Ilios. The landscape was becoming more secluded, with less pearl-white buildings to speak of. She could sense the change in the air. Her survival instincts were abuzz, and she wondered if Fareeha felt something similar.

Suddenly, Angela noted a hand on her shoulder, and she was brought in closer to the taller woman. She could feel Fareeha's warmth, and blinked rapidly, her face burning slightly.

'Stay close to me, Angela.'

'Y-yes…' Angela stammered, thrown by the sudden chivalry Fareeha was capable of.

'I'm sorry if it's a little too personal, but I don't want a repeat of last time. I _will_ protect you.'

'Don't you recall?' Angela forced herself to speak calmly. 'It takes quite a bit to truly harm me.'

'Despite your ability to heal, you _feel_ the pain, don't you?'

'Well, yes.'

'Then that is enough. I won't allow it.'

Again. Angela didn't think she was weak to such heroics anymore, but something about Fareeha's shift in demeanor had quite the effect on the older woman. It was actually somewhat humorous. Only Jack and Lena had ever given Angela a similar sensation, since their courage, strength, and selflessness in battle was unparalleled. If Fareeha were a man, it was quite possible Angela might even _feel_ something for her. In fact, even now…

'…I thank-you.' Angela mumbled, shuffling alongside Fareeha until they neared the meeting space.

Indeed, their ride was waiting in a small opening nestled away outside of the city. It was a more advanced transporter from the helicopter that had been used before. This aerial unit utilized more contemporary means of flight travel, implementing gravity engines to initiate a more seamless method of air transportation that was similar to present-day advanced city's modern methods of commuting.

Fareeha paused along the perimeter of the area, scanning her surroundings and waiting.

'Hello?' She called out, staying ahead of Angela and covering her, it seemed.

There was no response, but Angela could feel eyes on her. Winston's concerns weren't misplaced this time. The delay in departure gave Talon the opportunity to gather their forces. If another squad ambushed them now, Fareeha and Angela would be in trouble. Should they simply retreat, or…?

Something clicked, and then the aircraft's side door began to slide open. Fareeha reached back and touched Angela's arm, but didn't turn her head. She was ensuring Angela was still behind her; protected from whatever came next. This woman was ever vigilant.

'Be cautious, Fareeha.' Angela demanded, but everything that took place next gave neither Overwatch agent enough time to react in an appropriate manner. A missile exploded mere feet away from both Fareeha and Angela, the Egyptian grabbing hold of Angela and pulling her to the ground, rolling about until they could find some cover.

Angela exhaled sharply, but before she could gather herself, another explosion erupted, this time much closer. Fareeha held Angela close despite a small shriek escaping her throat. The larger woman thrust forward, jerking Mercy alongside her.

'My rockets…' Fareeha grunted, placing Angela behind a piece of landscape.

'We should retreat.'

'There isn't time. Stay here.'

All hesitation in Fareeha's voice was gone. She was a warrior now. Angela felt foolish for teasing such a capable individual. Fareeha's eyes sharpened within her heavy mascara, the tattoo lining one side of her face glimmering. She stood and dashed out, her back singed by the heat of the rocket's eruption.

Angela peeked around her protection, and watched in horror as Fareeha used her natural physical prowess to charge forth. It was foolhardy at best, but she was right; with a weapon and bird like that, there was no escaping. Talon punished those who failed, more than likely, and this man wasn't about to let himself be disgraced.

More miniature rockets were launched, but Fareeha was managing to evade direct hits, only flinching and circumnavigating her movements as needed. The heat from the explosions must've been intense, but the projectiles were somewhat slow, and Fareeha's agility was quite impressive. She had truly trained herself with dedication, displaying abilities beyond a normal human being's. She closed the gap between herself and her attacker, but with her progress came greater risk. The rockets were exploding closer and closer, until one seemed to land directly at the woman's feet, causing Fareeha to be launched backward a couple of metres.

'No…!' Angela screamed, but Fareeha was up again in another second, and it was then that Angela understood what the woman had done. Not another rocket was launched, and the figure hanging out the side of the plane threw the piece of equipment down, hastily drawing a gun and firing. Fareeha flinched as the shot bit through her shoulder, it seemed, but by then, she was on her assailant, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the aircraft. The two struggled, but Fareeha was like an animal, her movements sharp and powerful, her elbow cracking the side of the man's head with a brutal connection. He didn't move again after that.

'Ugh…!' Fareeha finally groaned, holding the blood that oozed from her fresh wound.

Angela pushed out from her cover and ran to her comrade, kneeling at Fareeha's side and taking her hand away from the bullet's entrance.

'It…didn't go through. Damn it…' Fareeha muttered amidst clenched teeth. Her hair was dishevelled, and her face was moist with sweat. Fareeha's shins were also exposed, minor burns ravaging her beautiful, bronze skin.

'You were incredible.' Angela praised earnestly.

'I know my miniature rocket launcher better than any. It was a fight…hah…I knew I could win…'

'Shhh. Take a moment. If we can make our way into our ride I suspect I can make use of the first aid kit within. Can you walk with my assistance?'

'I can do it without.' Fareeha managed to get up, but it was clear as day to Angela that she was in extreme pain and discomfort. Angela grinned wryly. She was like an entirely different person when it came to fighting.

'I'm sure you can, but you shouldn't.' Angela forced herself under Fareeha's arms, wrapping one hand around the other woman's firm, but shapely waist. It was muscular, but still rather feminine, like most of Fareeha's physical and nonphysical characteristics.

'…Fine.'

Angela eased Fareeha into one of the plane's seats, finding the first aid kit within a minute. She opened the case and frowned, not terribly impressed by the selection, but seeing all the necessary tools for dealing with a bullet wound. A less skilled doctor would be underwhelmed to the point of being forced to return back into the city, but time was a luxury both women lacked, presumably.

'He was the other pilot. Talon intercepted our way back.' Fareeha huffed.

'So I observed. The original pilot is likely dead, no?' Angela withdrew the necessary utensils and shuffled in close to Fareeha, taking one last look at her wounds.

'I would think so…'

'Unfortunate.' Angela practically whimpered. She realigned her focus. 'Please remove your shirt for me, Fareeha.'

The other girl visibly hesitated, but did what she was told without another word. She was wearing a black sports bra, unsurprisingly, and it held her bountiful chest in place rather well. Fareeha's abdominals truly surprised Angela, for they were perfectly shaped, with enough definition to show the woman's fitness, but also enough subtlety to prevent them from being too much. Her body was…strangely attractive to Angela, which did more than add a little discomfort to the older woman's focus.

'You're rather well built, Fareeha.' Angela decided to say, attempting to dislodge the bizarre thoughts from her brain.

'O-oh…Um…Thank-you…'

'This might sting a little, but please bear with me.'

And Angela went to work. She stayed close to Fareeha, smelling a faint trace of the woman's shampoo and sweat, feeling her quick exhales of restrained pain as Angela expertly dislodged the bullet and cleaned the wound, sealing it together. Angela could feel Fareeha's skin prickling under her touch, and while this wasn't completely uncommon for some individuals, Angela _did_ notice how flushed Fareeha's cheeks had become, her eyes staring away actively.

After Angela had technically completed her work, she dawdled, finding the sensation of Fareeha's smooth, dark skin oddly relaxing and comforting somehow. Even the scent of the woman was like a mental salve, and an unspoken of closeness threatened to solidify itself, to Angela's dismay. The doctor ripped herself away from the looming connection, and began managing Fareeha's shins, relieved to discover that no major burning had taken place.

'What you did was excessively reckless, Ms. Amari.' Angela heard herself say, emotion filling her voice in an unfamiliar way.

'I realize this, but I didn't see many other options.'

'Regardless, you best be more cautious in the future. You are soon to be a valued member of Overwatch. Your abilities in relation to your Raptora Mark VI will truly be valued, and…I would prefer not to see you in such a state again.'

'…Understood.'

Angela looked up, and when her eyes met Fareeha's, the girl flinched away, her gaze evasive as ever.

It took a few more minutes, but Angela was soon finished, her work expertly enacted.

'Incredible. I feel…quite good.' Fareeha smiled tentatively.

'Excellent. Now, are you capable of flying this particular aircraft to our destination should we obtain some direction from Winston? We best depart sooner than later considering our friend could wake up at any moment.'

'Agreed.' Fareeha rotated her arm, grimacing as she did so.

'Careful.' Angela took hold of the woman, cradling her shoulder gently. It wasn't a necessary moment of contact, but the doctor found herself doing so anyway. 'You must allow it to heal; surely you know this. I can't imagine it's your first time being injured thus.'

'Of course not.'

'Then take care of yourself; doctor's orders.'

Fareeha pursed her lips just a little, and Angela almost grinned at the somewhat adorable sight.

'Fine…'

'Good girl.'

'I'm not a child.' Fareeha mumbled, and Angela giggled.

'Oh, I am quite aware of that.' Angela teased, and the reaction was worth it. 'Now, shall we contact Winston and be on our way?'


	13. XIII: Tracer

Tracer

'That's the gist of the mission. I can think of nobody better to take this one on. The question is: are you mentally able? I know…uh…King's Row was a rough situation for you.'

Lena was staring out the enormous, mirrored window overlooking Watchpoint Gibraltar. There were quite a few Overwatch agents going about their work, but not nearly the amount that had existed before the U.N. disbanded the organization. It was hard to see, but everything had a beginning, and Overwatch's revival was still in its infancy. The problem was: would they be ready in time? Talon was a force to reckon with; that much had become abundantly clear, and they currently held the advantage so far as raw power and capabilities went.

'I should be fine, Luv.' Lena puffed out her chest, turning from the scene before her and seeing Winston's massive form adjusting itself within his chair. He fixed his glasses, tapping a few icons upon his holographic screen to project it in front of both veterans.

'Then let's go over the details. Your point of contact will be in Numbani city at Club Se7en where the world-famous D.J., Lucio Correia dos Santos is performing as part of his world tour for Synaesthesia Auditiva.'

'Synaesth…what?'

'Synaesthesia.'

'Sinthesis.'

'Er…something like that.'

'Huh. Fancy name, innit?'

'I would agree with that.'

'So, you're sendin' me on a mini-vacation? How sweet! But I'm okay, really.'

'I know. Jokes aside, I've already been in contact with this man, and he's interested in joining our cause.'

'I guess someone who's willing to go up against a corporation like Vishkar has similar beliefs to Overwatch? Is that what piqued your interest?'

'More than less. His values are sound – pardon the pun – and he carries with him something that should prove beneficial to Overwatch as a whole. We need someone like him to help unify our group like never before.'

'That's true…' Lena analyzed the data presented before her. She knew of Lucio; everyone who read or listened to the news did. He was famous for his pushback against Vishkar's attempt to nearly imprison an entire city with rules and regulations unasked for in exchange for use of its hard-light technology. His athletic prowess and focus on freedom and justice for the weak made him something of an unprecedented celebrity. Lena herself looked up to him, in a way, and having him in the ranks of Overwatch wasn't exactly a terrible idea.

'He is interested in joining our cause, but he's also committed to performing in Numbani first, considering it is one of the few cities that promotes and protects the right of human and omnic interrelations. After the loss of Mondatta, he's even more adamant.'

'Right. Of course.' It stung to hear the slight reminder, but what could Lena say? It was the truth. Mondatta was gone. Emily was gone. Wait. Emily? No. She couldn't keep thinking about her.

'However, he wants to speak with someone from Overwatch before anything is settled. That's where you come in. Your personality can charm almost anyone willing to listen. You two will undoubtedly mesh quite well, I think. He's already sent me a ticket to his concert. He wants whoever I send to be present for the whole thing. He believes it will answer any questions we have as well. I think it's worth the risk, and I wouldn't ask this of anyone less capable.'

Lena giggled self-consciously.

'You sure, Winston? I mean…'

'What?' Winston huffed, scowling a little.

'Nothing! Nothing at all!'

'That's better. We don't have as much time as I would like, but Angela and Fareeha should be here very soon. Unfortunately, you'll be on your way by the time they arrive.'

'Angela? S-she's definitely coming back, then?'

'Heheh.' Winston grinned, his sharp canine teeth intimidating. Somehow, Lena almost forgot he was an enormous gorilla. 'It's all about sending the right people, and I'm getting pretty good at that. Genji and Zenyatta are already on route as well, and Hanzo will require some work, but we'll leave it up to his little brother to figure that out. It's starting to come together, and hopefully it will before Talon has all _its_ pieces in place. Stopping Doomfist's gauntlet from being taken was a win, but I doubt the attempt will finish there. Talon can't make any big moves for some time yet, but they're still formidable as they currently stand.'

'Oh, I know that, big guy. I'll be careful.'

Winston paused, breathing out deeply and beginning to type away at his computer, the keyboard custom-made by himself personally to accommodate for his giant fingers.

'I sent the rest of the details to your mail. I also…gave you some information I could gather about Widowmaker. It's still unconfirmed, but…well…maybe take a look on your way so you have a better idea of your opponent. I don't think Talon will send someone like her to intercept us in this case, but you can never be too careful.'

Lena swallowed, thinking about how she would deal with the blue-skinned woman differently should they encounter one another again. She would certainly be a little more cautious, but beyond that, she had never felt so utterly outmatched.

'Thanks, big guy. Appreciate it.'

'Your private flight leaves in about three hours. Have something to eat, relax, and I wish you all the luck.'

Lena saluted, puffing out her chest proudly.

'Aye, aye!'

* * *

Lena had almost an hour and a half to kill, and although she was usually one to galivant with her fellow soldiers and agents, she simply lacked the usual pep the young woman was known for. Leaving Emily the way she did still stung, losing to Widowmaker was general Overwatch knowledge now, and allowing Mondatta to be assassinated simply dug into her soul more than she was willing to admit. Being sent on another mission was questionable to the time traveler, but she wouldn't let Winston down again, and this particular task didn't seem overly dangerous.

Presumably, Talon would try _something_ , for Lucio's concert and his influence might not be worth overlooking, but Lena couldn't see it as a high-priority mission. The only challenge would be convincing Lucio that Overwatch had a cause worth investing his time and energy in. Besides, it sounded like Lena was being told to go party while on a mission; she couldn't complain about that, right?

Lena tapped at her phone and opened up the file about Widowmaker Winston had sent her.

'Know your enemy and all that…' She muttered, sitting on her bed with only a small, white tank-top and yellow short shorts to cover her. The soft pale blue hue of her chronal accelerator hummed nearby, but otherwise, her space was quiet, for a change. The data loaded hastily, and Lena squinted through the finer points of the file, not one to usually worry about such things.

Based on some newfound data sent from a "reliable source", Widowmaker's real name was Amelie Lacroix. She was married to Gerard Lacroix, a former Overwatch agent who was at the forefront of taking down Talon before it became the monster it was today. After Gerard's death, Amelie went missing, and was eventually seen working for Talon, her entire physical appearance altered due to presumed biological tampering. There is speculation regarding her attachment to Gerard's death and sudden switch to being a Talon agent.

'Bloody hell…' Lena gasped, re-reading the synopsis. Some pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, however, if any of this was true. The face Widowmaker made when Lena had pinned and questioned her so adamantly. It was such a curious, bizarre reaction. It was so conflicted and almost…pathetic in a terrifying way. If Widowmaker's mind had been manipulated to such an extent, of course she would be mentally unstable. Had Lena managed to hit some sort of nerve? Is that why she was allowed to live? Is that why Widowmaker's ice-cold demeanor thawed ever so slightly under the Overwatch agent's pure sincerity?

'Well, damn it.' Lena flopped back, lifting her phone over her face and zooming in on the assassin's blurred picture. 'Now I can't just take you out willy-nilly…'

It was the truth. Lena didn't like killing at all, to be honest, if it could absolutely be avoided. Angela had quite readily implanted the concept of mercy upon anyone she could, and the doctor was _very_ convincing. Lena would only cripple those that absolutely couldn't be allowed to continue being a threat. Widowmaker fell into such a category with ease, but now the line was being blurred.

'I mean…it's not her fault, am I wrong?' Lena went on, voicing her thoughts in order to organize them better. 'She's a victim in all this, potentially. That face…definitely makes me think so, anyway.'

The overwhelming urge to help those that couldn't help themselves filled Tracer, and perhaps a strange sense of defeat made the girl want to rise above the embarrassment to assist Amelie in some way. Maybe she didn't want to fight her again because of fear, so the higher ground appeared more appealing. It was hard to say. Widowmaker was a lethal threat, at the end of the day, and Lena couldn't take that fact lightly no matter what her instincts told her. Helping the enemy in any way was lunacy at best, so Lena decided to shelve these strange, intangible emotions in order to prep for that which was right in front of her: a mission that would benefit Overwatch's morale and dedication to a cause.

Lena stretched her arms out on either side of herself and stared at her ceiling.

Widowmaker. Emily. Why did they circulate through her mind so? Widowmaker was evil now; that much was true beyond debate. Emily was…not a part of Lena's life anymore. Best stop allowing images to form so easily.

Lena turned and opened up the music app on her phone. She clicked into something lively and energetic, feeling the rhythm flow through her. She started tapping the bed alongside the sounds, and eventually stood up, doing a little jig with a grin forming over her lips. She tousled her short brown hair in a mixture of frustration and commitment, forcing her mind to dismiss the complicated stuff and focus on what she could do now.

Lena shuffled along the floor, shaking her hips and spinning about with an impressive amount of dexterity and balance. She was going on a mission that basically _required_ her to move with the beat. Getting warmed up just made sense. If she couldn't even get into the music he was playing, how was Lena supposed to interact with Lucio correctly? Thinking about Emily and Widowmaker could wait. For now, a trip to Numbani would take priority.

Suddenly, however, the door to Lena's room was knocked on almost politely, and the time traveler felt a rush of shock pass through her. A guest was unexpected, but she dimmed the music and went to her peephole, seeing someone that instantly gave her anxiety, but not enough to stop her from hastily opening the barricade to the one and only Tekhartha Zenyatta.

'Peace be with you.' The omnic rose a mechanical hand, his voice calming yet powerful.

'Zenyatta…'

'Indeed.'

'Wow. It's an honour to meet a member of the Shambali. Mondatta was an inspiration to me.'

'To us all.' Zenyatta's head tipped forward subtly. 'I miss him greatly.'

'Um…Come in!'

'I thank you.' The omnic nodded, levitating within impressively. Although Zenyatta was seen as something of an outcast within the Shambali hierarchy, from what Tracer knew, his name still reigned closely with Mondatta's in the realm of enlightened omnic lore and power.

'I don't have much to offer, but I'm happy to see you decided to join our cause.'

'My brethren would be further displeased, yet I will not sit idle while my kind are used, once again, to wreak havoc upon humanity.'

Lena beamed with pride, encouraged by the growing number of pivotal members to Overwatch's cause.

'I'm about to head out for a mission, but I have a bit of time if you need me to show you around or anything. Do you have a room already? Is Genji here?'

'Worry not about me, Lena Oxton. I am hear to speak about _you_.'

'Me?' Lena blinked.

'Quite. Winston elaborated upon his concerns regarding your mental health, and I see now that he is not misguided. The burden of despair you carry will only serve to weigh you down further no matter what – admittedly – "catchy" tunes you attempt to drown your mind in.'

Lena's cheeks flushed. She completely forgot about her music. The background noise was hastily turned off.

'Unfortunate. I did not mind such sound.'

'Oh…Um…' Lena went to her phone again, but Zenyatta shook his head.

'Time is as valuable as ever, so allow me to make one thing particularly clear: Mondatta's sad ending was _not_ your fault. Certainly, his passing was a grand victory for our opposing force, but you were not tasked with his protection. If anything at all, you gave my brother hope, if only for a moment, and that was enough. Had you not been there, hope would have been snuffed entirely. Overwatch _is_ hope in this dark hour, and I wish to do everything within my power to live on for Mondatta and all he represented. Will you do the same?'

'Of course…' Lena affirmed, but Zenyatta's head twisted to the side slightly.

'Truly?'

Lena nodded, gripping her hands into fists and glancing to her chronal accelerator.

'We're hope. And if that's true, do you think there's hope in even the darkest corners of the world?'

'Yes. Without a doubt.'

It was a personal goal, but with that clear confirmation before her, Lena decided she would at least try if given the chance. Why did she care? It was hard to say, but something about that woman's circumstances didn't rub her the right way, and the time traveler couldn't leave someone's cry for help to the wayside; even if that cry came in the form of a twisted laugh and mocking gaze.

'You are travelling to Numbani, correct? It is a wonderful place, and I wish you all the best, but there is notable anxiety swirling about the city that I can sense quite vividly when viewing broadcasts from that very same plain of existence.'

'What do you mean? Is it because of who's all locked up there?'

'If I could only know. Nonetheless, Winston is taking my concerns into consideration and is formulating a plan as we speak. For now, your departure is inevitable, and it would appear my words have had a positive effect, which is pleasing.'

Lena grinned.

'Yeah. I was trying to slap myself out of it, but having someone that was so close to Mondatta tell me to move on is loads of help too. Thanks, Zenyatta. Really.'

'A pleasure. I hope we may speak again once you return, safe and sound, Lena Oxton.'

'We'll have a drink! Oh…uh…maybe not. Maybe a chat? By the sunset? Listening to hymns or something? …Levitating?'

Zenyatta chuckled, and Lena giggled a bit as well. He was a robot, but they could interact like this so seamlessly. They could make one another laugh. They could help each other through heartache. How could anyone believe that there _wasn't_ something special about the omnics? It was lunacy. It made Lena want to fight harder than ever before. Looking at Zenyatta stare right into her soul, Lena knew she was on the right side of this fight. There was no doubt about it.

'Any and all of that sounds wonderful. However,' The monk's tone rose a little. 'The music you had on before wouldn't be so terrible as well.'


	14. XIV: Pharah

Pharah

'Flying high in the sky…' Fareeha said aloud, leaving most of the navigational work to the autopilot but making personal, minor adjustments to the course as necessary. Angela was in the co-pilot's seat, sitting with a natural grace that was somehow almost distracting.

'That we are. So long as Talon isn't persistent enough to attack us up here, we should arrive at Watchpoint Gibraltar within a couple of hours.' The good doctor sounded just a little quieter than usual, and this piqued Fareeha's interest enough to say something.

'Are you…okay?' She asked, knowing it wasn't a showing of courtesy she generally displayed to just anyone. She wasn't the best at "reading" other people in her life. It was one of her superior's most prominent critique when she was in the army. However, for some reason, Fareeha found herself trying adamantly to understand Angela's closed off mind and heart.

'Quite. I'm more concerned about you, to be perfectly honest. Despite the medical attention I provided, I imagine your shoulder remains sore, yet you are flying us rather admirably.'

'Heh. I'm barely doing a thing.' Fareeha was tired of the way her blood sped up with every compliment. Was this how it was going to be when she met all the other heroes of Overwatch? Thank goodness for her darker skin; it hid her perpetual embarrassment rather well.

'I suppose that's true…'

There was silence, and Fareeha searched for something to say within it. The moment they reached Watchpoint Gibraltar, everything was going to change. These last few days with Angela were much different than what Fareeha had expected. She had gotten to know one of the heroes from her dreams intimately well because of the bizarre chain of events they had experienced together. Fareeha wasn't so arrogant as to consider herself Angela's friend, but she certainly thought highly of the other woman. If anything, she _wanted_ to maintain some form of relationship with her. She felt fiercely protective of the genius doctor. The thought of not being around when she was in danger created a painful void in Fareeha's stomach.

'Now then, let's see…' Angela suddenly perked up, tapping her cheek. 'What shall we call you on the field, Ms. Amari?'

'Come again?' Fareeha rose a brow, glancing to her side and gifting herself with a glimpse of the angelic co-pilot.

'Well, many of the prominent Overwatch agents use codenames for a multitude of reasons. Tracer loves the idea of sounding like a real superhero, while I believe they're mostly used to protect our identities to a certain extent. Not everyone has one, of course, but it can help with the language barriers that sometimes exist as well, despite most of the world adapting some level of English by this point in time.'

'True…'

'So! Was there something you called yourself when you were playing make-believe heroes growing up?'

'W-what!? How did you…?'

'Oh, Fareeha. It doesn't take a genius to assume you were quite the tomboy in your youth. Your admiration for Overwatch solidifies the latter presumptions as well.'

Fareeha sucked in some air. Angela understood her better with every passing hour they spent together. Better than her late mother even…But why couldn't Fareeha get a proper read on this admirable woman? It was frustrating how limited her intellect was socially. Never had she wished to know someone else's thoughts so desperately.

'I…don't really recall.'

'Oh. That's no fun.'

'Sorry.'

'No need to apologize.' Angela giggled. She seemed to be in better spirits now that she was teasing Fareeha again. If that's what it took to see such a smile, Fareeha didn't mind in the slightest. 'It just means we shall think of one together. There is time to spare, is there not?'

'Well, yes.'

'Heheh! Then, let us begin! What are your initial thoughts?'

Fareeha took a moment, but her mind was jumbled, and Angela's voice was becoming more precious the less time remained on their trip. How big was Watchpoint Gibraltar? Would they be able to see one another at least a little bit? But that didn't feel like enough to Fareeha. She wanted to spend more than "a little" time with Angela. However, perhaps after she met the other heroes she would be satisfied with their presence as well. Yet, that didn't seem correct either…

'Creativity has never been my strong suit.'

'I suspected as much. Fortunately for us, I have some experience naming new viruses and medicines, so, I suspect I will be of assistance!'

Fareeha's face hurt she was grinning so widely. The joy she felt when Angela was happy seemed curiously abundant. It was a new sensation, but one she certainly didn't mind.

'What are your thoughts on the name "Anubis"?'

Fareeha blinked, hesitating to respond.

'Oh! You don't like it?'

'It's…not that I dislike it…but…'

'Hmm. I suppose it has some rather negative connotations. God of death and the like.'

'Right. It would almost be the equivalent to an American calling themselves "Satan" or "Lucifer".'

'Yuck. My apologies.'

'Not at all.'

'How insensitive of me.'

'It really doesn't bother me _that_ much.'

'Ever ignorant at times…'

'Pardon?' Fareeha questioned, not quite hearing Angela's words exactly.

'Nothing. Just the ramblings of a crazed, old lady.'

'Stop saying that.'

'Heheh!'

Fareeha bit her lip, a swelling of emotion coming over her. This desire to protect Angela's mental and physical health was starting to be concerning. She wanted to hug the other woman for some reason, and that in itself was the epitome of bizarre for Fareeha considering she was anything but someone who embraced familiar contact with most.

'Well, then; how do you feel about "Jackal"?'

'Um…A bit better.'

'But still don't love it?'

'It has a nice edge to it.'

'I don't mind if you refute my ideas, Fareeha. I won't be offended. I've been verbally attacked on more than a few occasions. I'm tougher than I look, I'll have you know.'

'Attacked? By who?' Fareeha's brow furrowed, and her grip on the aircraft tightened.

'Oh, just envious colleagues more than anything. It was nothing, really. No need to be so angered.'

'I-I'm not angry.'

'Your physical rhetoric states otherwise. Rather protective of me, aren't you?' Angela nudged Fareeha's shoulder, giggling playfully. 'I'm a big girl. There is no need to worry.'

Fareeha didn't have a response she could be satisfied with for that. She knew she didn't really have a place in Angela's life beyond this mission. They had connected, to a degree, but it was mostly out of necessity as far as Angela was concerned, surely. Fareeha didn't want to think about it any further. Her chest was starting to hurt, and it was a pain she was rather unfamiliar with.

'Ah!' Angela clapped her delicate fist into her hand. 'I believe I've got it!'

'Pardon?' Fareeha had forgotten what the subject matter was entirely. Her mind was officially elsewhere.

'Pharah. What do you think?'

'Pharah?'

'It's a mixture of the word pharaoh and your name, Fareeha. Rather appropriate, wouldn't you say? At once, it is somewhat soft sounding, but at the same time, the word pharaoh itself carries weight and respect. You are in control of the power you wield, like a good king or, in this case, pharaoh. You are also quite regal, if you don't mind me saying. I admire the dignified way you carry yourself. I personally think we have a winner.'

'Pharah…' Fareeha repeated the alias, and she would admit that her heart was skipping a beat. She connected with the name, and her cheeks pinched with excitement. Angela Ziegler had thought of it, and her reasoning was beyond flattering.

'Yes. I…I really like that.'

'Do you? Wonderful! Then it's settled. Heheh! I feel quite accomplished. Somewhat sad, really.'

Fareeha glanced to Angela beside her and thought about the events over the last couple of days. This woman was stronger than any could guess. She persevered where many would fall. She smiled when she should be crying. She was beyond Fareeha's grasp in every way, yet the younger woman couldn't help but want to reach out.

'Thank-you. I'll cherish the name.' Fareeha could only think to reply with.

'Oh. No need to go that far. We were just passing the time. You can change it should you feel the need.'

Fareeha swallowed, her throat tight. That wall again. Was it even possible to scale such a thing?

'I won't.' She answered simply but not without resolve.

* * *

Fareeha managed to land the aircraft without much issue, relaying her safety through her headset to her receiver on Watchpoint Gibraltar. Despite this, there were still a decent number of agents at ready once the door exhaled loudly, smoothly sliding open to allow Fareeha and Angela departure from their ride.

Once both women were seen safe and sound, with no other unwanted individuals alongside them, the Overwatch agents seemed to relax in unison, happily lowering their guard and brightening up especially at the sight of the nearly legendary Mercy. Fareeha could feel her nerves festering a little, but she wasn't completely unused to such a setting, and only the fact she was somehow living out a childhood dream finally caused her apprehension.

'Good day, everyone. In case you are unfamiliar with me, I am Angela Ziegler, also known as Mercy, should that be simpler for you to pronounce or remember. I am the head of our medical team here, and I also frequent the battlefield as a healer. It is a pleasure, although I wish Overwatch wasn't a necessity at all, to be perfectly honest.'

There were murmurs of agreement and other stares of bewilderment. Fareeha was certain she had a similar reaction when meeting the angelic individual herself.

'Introduce yourself, Pharah.' Angela murmured behind herself subtly, and the younger girl's heart jumped.

'I am Fareeha Amari, daughter to Ana Amari, whom some of you may already know. My codename is Pharah, and I pilot the prototype Raptora Mark VI, which allows me to fly in the sky and protect the innocent. This is my first time fighting for Overwatch, but I don't intend to be a burden.'

Fareeha stood at attention, and her already tall and somewhat imposing build allowed her to feel even larger. She looked down on many of the men, and could feel their intimidation.

'Lovely.' Angela clapped her hands together fondly. 'Now, if someone would be so kind, may we speak with Winston?'

An awkward pause, with one of the more experienced men stepping forth and speaking up.

'Winston left alongside Genji on an emergency mission in Numbani, but another has arrived and is currently leading Overwatch in Winston's absence.'

'Oh? And who might that be?' Angela tapped her cheek with what appeared to be a knowing grin.

* * *

'It's been a while.' An older man's gruff voice rumbled as he turned his chair that was situated before a large array of monitors, high in one of the base's lookout towers. It was clearly Winston's primary space, for there was a spacesuit fit only for a gorilla, a tire strung to the ceiling, bananas and peanut butter leftovers, and complicated sheets full of equations that made little to no sense to Fareeha. However, all these details escaped Fareeha when she looked upon who she could only assume to be Jack Morrison, the late "leader" of Overwatch, although such a title could not be used haphazardly at this point when discussing the hero of days past. His face had aged significantly, but his body seemed fitter than ever, rippling with a toned muscular construct that was evidently influenced by the rumoured enhancements he and a select few other agents had participated in to better fight the omnics.

'Jack. You look well.' Angela said with such unfiltered affection that Fareeha's chest physically hurt.

'I'm sure.' Jack growled. 'You, on the other hand, haven't aged a day. Here I thought _my_ body was messed with beyond repair.'

'An apple a day keeps the doctor away.' Angela shrugged.

'Yeah. Or nanotechnology so advanced it'd cost a small country to even begin mass production.'

'Tsk. Tsk. That's a rather presumptuous thing to imply.'

The two bantered like family, with no reservation or airs. Fareeha witnessed the interaction, and although she felt something akin to the same admiration she had for Angela upon first meeting her, she expected something else, sensing more jealousy forming in her stomach than she could possibly understand.

'Fareeha.' Jack turned to her now, standing up and matching Fareeha's height but far outweighing her when it came to pure girth. He was an imposing man through and through, easily giving off the aura that he could break almost anyone who dared to cross him and his years of combat experience.

'Fareeha Amari. Ana's little girl. Not so little now. You remember me?'

'Somewhat.' She reminisced an American icon, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smug, square jaw to match it all. What Jack was now couldn't be compared, although he seemed very reliable, like a father almost.

'You have good posture. Definitely a soldier. Your mother taught you well.'

'She taught me enough. I learned more on my own.'

Jack paused, eyeing Fareeha with his damaged, sensitive pupils.

'She was trying to protect you.' He said sternly, sensing Fareeha's irritation.

'I know.' Fareeha responded, harnessing her emotions as best as possible.

'No mother would want to subject her child to war if she could help it.' Angela supported Jack, and it didn't help Fareeha's need.

'It's in the past. I'm here now. She's not. I'll prove her wrong.'

Jack gave Angela a look, and Fareeha's eye twitched. The man then scratched the back of his neck, cracking his shoulders and grunting.

'This might get interesting…'

'You don't have to worry about me. I am more than capable.' Fareeha insisted, knowing she should stop talking sooner rather than later.

'Jack doesn't seem to doubt that.' Angela stepped forward, touching Jack on the chest and pushing him back into the chair he had been sitting in. She took hold of his face and gripped it tightly, from what Fareeha could see. The proximity between the two Overwatch agents was almost embarrassing, but Fareeha couldn't look away.

'Hold still.' Angela demanded, and Jack groaned in frustration.

'I'm fine.'

'I highly doubt that. From what I've heard, you've been _very_ busy.'

'Just doin' what no one else will.'

'And now you're here.'

'…Didn't have a choice.'

'So it would seem.'

'And you?'

'A similar conclusion.'

Fareeha should've been in awe, but she was just becoming more irritable with every passing minute. She was being ridiculous, especially considering what she had just stated. Her mother would be ashamed of such lack of emotional control. But she just couldn't…

'Do I have a room? Am I needed for anything else for now?' Fareeha finally asked, trying not to snap the questions out.

Angela released Jack's head, pointing at him angrily.

'See me in my office once I am situated. You need proper treatment.'

'…Yes, m'am.' He fixed his attention on Fareeha once more. 'At this moment, we're on standby. I'm running some analytics on various hotspots in the world for Talon involvement, but for now, Russia seems to be the swelling point for the uprising of another Omnic Crisis. It's contained there currently, but Winston was in the middle of making plans to assist and nip this issue in the bud if at all possible. Unfortunately, he received word that Lena's mission may be compromised due to an unforeseen, undesirable threat that could tip this whole fight in Talon's favour.'

'Which one?' Angela sighed.

'Doomfist.' Jack answered somberly, and a chill ran Fareeha's spine. That wasn't a name one wanted to hear no matter what the scenario, but when attached to an already dire situation, the involvement of Doomfist was beyond undesirable.

'It is suspected that his escape is imminent?' Angela said quietly, sounding ever intelligent.

'With the moves Talon's making, I wouldn't doubt it. Winston left before I even got here. Don't know if he'll make it in time, but it's better than nothing. For now, I'm taking charge, but as soon as he's back, the big guy can run the show. I'm long past that burden.'

'Enough, Jack. There's little benefit in acting in such a way.' Angela chastised, and the old solider sighed in frustration.

'I'm here, aren't I? I'll do what I'm best at and finish this war. It never ended to begin with. The only difference now is that we're acting as criminals against the U.N. Winston told you that, right?' Jack's icy stare found Fareeha, and she wouldn't let herself flinch.

'I'm aware of the risks.'

'…Good.'

A pause, with a heavy silence filling the air. Fareeha understood where she was now. She was living her dream, but like all dreams, the reality of it all wasn't as romantic as one would hope. This was war. This was life or death. It wasn't unlike the Egyptian army, but the lack of governmental support was more unnerving than Fareeha would have suspected.

'Bradley, get up here.' Jack demanded into what appeared to be a communication device connected to one of the many terminals. He turned back to Fareeha, almost seeming to smile a partial amount. 'You're going to get shown to your quarters. We still have a lot of rooms to fill, but Winston is doing better than I could. This might not be the suicide mission I thought it was after all.'

Fareeha glanced to Angela, wanting to ask where she would be staying but knowing it wasn't her place to know anymore.

'Affirmative. I appreciate it.'

'Winston's notes say you can pilot some mechanized suit or something?'

Fareeha nodded proudly.

'Yes. It's one of the few fully functioning Raptora line of aerial assault units. It can be difficult to utilize, but I'm told I have talent, thus I was trusted with the Mark VI version.'

'Which you stole and brought here with us. That's government property, isn't it?'

'Jack.' Angela whispered.

'Not like I really care. We're no better than terrorists ourselves, at the end of the day. We'll make good use of it after the specs are measured properly, I'm sure.'

A knock on the door was heard, and Jack allowed access to a young man with darker features, not unlike Fareeha. He may have even been Egyptian, if Fareeha wasn't mistaken, although he stood just a little shorter than her. Bradley might not even be his real name. He was conventionally good looking, with a longer, angular face, but Fareeha didn't give him much attention beyond the initial observation.

'Bradley reporting.'

'Yep. Good. Show Fareeha to her room. Residential sector B in room 58. Here's the key card. Communicate with me when the job is done. Help her with her stuff. We'll decide where we'll store your suit later. Keep it with you for now.'

'Yes, sir!'

Fareeha wanted to say something, but she couldn't form a coherent thought. A piece of her was being pulled at, and it wasn't comfortable. This was reality. This was what being in Overwatch was. She wasn't a hero like Mercy, Tracer, Winston, Jack, or even Genji. She was a grunt. Until she proved herself, Fareeha was just another agent who would occupy one of the many rooms reserved for "regular" soldiers. Angela would have an entire office to herself, because she was special and important. Jack assumed command when Winston was out. Genji took on missions only someone of his special skillset could ever hope to manage. Tracer was the beacon of light and the poster girl for Overwatch's newfound revival. Fareeha was just…the daughter to a legend.

But she would change that.

'Thank-you for everything, Jack. Angela.' Fareeha finally said, and she ignored the pain that tugged at her chest, aware that she was just being a spoiled, demanding girl. She wouldn't disappoint Ana's memory. She wouldn't let Jack down. She would show Angela just what she was capable of. And then maybe, just maybe, she could stand by the doctor's side again as she had over the last few days. What Fareeha wouldn't give for such an opportunity. It was a goal she didn't quite understand completely, but it was a goal nonetheless.


	15. XV: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

 _'A bottle of your finest wine, my good man. I'll have nothing less for this beauty.'_

 _'You flatter me, sir.'_

 _'Hardly. Not even their best will equate to the honour I feel at your acceptance of my offer.'_

 _'It is but a date, Mr. Lacroix.'_

 _'One I dared only dream of during my most reckless of imaginings.'_

 _'A silver tongue, I see.'_

 _'Is it working?'_

 _'It is not a terrible thing.'_

 _'Ah. Then all those lessons of etiquette I endured growing up have proven their worth at last.'_

 _'Please. Relax.'_

 _'I shall attempt as much, but I make no promises.'_

 _'Well, perhaps if I were to – '_

* * *

 _'It was a mistake, my sweet. I was under the influence, and it was just a peck. I didn't foresee you being the jealous kind.'_

 _'I-I'm not. I don't_ want _to be. But you, my darling…You make me_ feel _such madness!'_

 _'Angel…'_

 _'Perhaps this was a mistake. Perhaps all of this was just…a mistake.'_

 _'No! No, no, no! Not at all! Amelie! Oh, my sweet Amelie! What can I do to make it better?'_

 _'What can you do? It's simple; just – '_

* * *

 _'I had a wonderful evening. I have never felt so spoiled.'_

 _'You've provided me with a year of adoration and affection I will not forget. I hope the fireworks were not too much.'_

 _'Not at all. They were magnificent. Truly.'_

 _'I had difficulty focusing on them with you so close.'_

 _'Gerard; still with the flattery after all this time.'_

 _'It comes with honesty, Amelie. You are more precious than life itself to me now. Living without you is but a nightmare I do not wish to ever experience.'_

 _'Oh? That sounds rather final, good sir.'_

 _'It could be, if you would honour this begging soul.'_

 _'Pardon?'_

 _'Amelie…'_

 _'What are you…?'_

 _'My work forces me to proceed as thus, but in this moment, I see no other option. If you would be so kind, I would be overjoyed if you would – '_

* * *

A grey ceiling. Grey and decrepit. Widowmaker lay still, unmoving in every regard. Her index finger twitched, feeling an invisible click with no recoil to speak of. She felt numb; more so than usual. She opened her mouth but could hardly register the motion. She bit down on her bottom lip, crunching through the flesh until the slightest semblance of liquid oozing down her chin could just barely be registered by her senses. It was as though her body was made of lead. She was heavy.

"You're awake. Good. If you survived the first dose then we will proceed from here. What do you feel?"

It took Widowmaker longer than it should have for her to understand the voice. She sat up, only knowing she did as much because of her eyes, which burned perpetually. There was an intercom near her room's door. She was in nothing more than a simple, shapeless white patient gown.

'I…don't feel…' Widow managed, her mouth frozen.

"Oh? That appeared troublesome to say. Is it difficult to move?"

Widowmaker lifted her arms, but it was as if they were both asleep. She slumped them to her sides, tilting her head back and staring at the damaged roof once more.

'Yes…'

Silence, with what sounded like a distance hiss through the intercom.

"Very well. I will check back with you in another hour or so to evaluate your status. Do not stray too far. You have another mission approaching, and I will not be held responsible for your body's inability to adapt to a neural manipulation virus appropriately. Good day."

Moira. It was Moira. She might have been irritated, but it was impossible to tell in Widow's current state. She attempted to stand, but her legs cracked and snapped under the weight of her unfeeling form. She collapsed onto the ground and breathed, knowing she should likely be scared, but unable to experience that sensation of emotional sustenance either.

'Why…am I here?' Widow asked the void. Nothing made sense. Nothing meant anything at all. She could only lay and stare, blinking after a minute and simply waiting for the next occasion. Her mind was a thick, impenetrable fog, full of a vast expanse of redundant lucidity. Blinking reminded Widow that she was, indeed, alive, but even that was questioned after the sixtieth blink.

Nothing. She was nothing. Breathing and blinking was all she could do.

The door to her room slid open, and Moira stepped in, her long, white lab coat almost trailing at her heels. She giggled to herself deeply, kneeling next to Widowmaker and eyeing her thoughtfully.

'My, my. I suppose a happy medium will be difficult to accomplish after all. You're no good to anyone like this. I could allow those lusting monkeys prowling about your corridor at every opportunity to have their way with you and I imagine your eye would barely even bat. If you weren't relied on for a multitude of Talon's operations, I would permit just that as an intriguing social experiment. Alas, I am paid very well for my work, and this development is fascinating in its own way as well.'

'Mo…ira…'

'Tsk. You're no better than a vegetable. Are you regressing or recovering? Considering your ongoing state, I might deduce the latter, but you tend to surprise my hypothesis given the chance, so, I shall use some spare time and observe your receptors. You don't leave for your mission until later in the night, regardless. I have a moment to contribute to this vein of research.'

The words could be comprehended, but they meant so little. Widowmaker only stared at Moira, the comfort of not moving her gaze settling into her heart that hardly beat.

'Pathetic.' Moira rolled her eyes and extracted a small device from her lab coat, promptly stabbing Widow's neck with little remorse and injecting a cool fluid into her veins. Widowmaker could feel the hot fire enveloping her from within, and she blinked a little faster now, her mouth twitching in a suggestion of discomfort.

'Your mission tonight is too important for you to be in such a state. This drug will counter the virus I infected you with, giving your body time to adjust appropriately, ideally. The virus will, ultimately, absorb this temporary precaution, but the job is done by that point.'

'Huh…' Widowmaker slumped back, stretching her arms wide on the cold ground. She was already awakening from the null state she was trapped in moments ago. Would she become like that again? Even she didn't adore the idea. She was practically dead, and it wasn't pleasant.

'There. I see the light returning to those biologically enhanced retinas. Good. You've always taken well to anything I've practised upon you. A shame such a trait is a double-edged sword.'

'Don't…do that again.' Widowmaker heard the words hiss between her lips, pushing herself up and glaring at the doctor within her room.

'Pardon?' Moira raised a brow, smirking in amusement.

'I can't…even hold a gun in that state. What good is a weapon if it can't be used?'

'A valid argument, but as I said, there are only minor adjustments needed, and you will be able to function well enough – just without those lingering emotions that prevent you from killing a single, little girl.'

A distant, foreign chill crawled over Widowmaker's spine, clawing at her insides and burrowing into her neck. She thought she felt nothing, but now she knew what a claim could truly mean.

'I refuse.' Widow muttered, standing tall, almost higher than the overly slender Moira herself.

'Oh? You "refuse"?' Moira giggled like a snake would if it was capable.

'I don't wish to be mindless. My emotions made me vulnerable, I understand, but I won't be human at all if you strip me of anything further.'

A long, drawling pause, with Moira tapping her cheek and feigning concern prior to waving her long-nailed, tentacle of a hand in the air, narrowing her thin eyes dangerously.

'Whatever would give you the impression that I _care_ what you think? The less human you are, the better. What do you live for beyond killing? You're Talon's tool; don't think anything but that, "Widowmaker".'

It wasn't a fact Widowmaker didn't know already, yet somehow, she was infuriated. The rage she should have felt was nothing compared to what a normal person's would be, but the genius sniper's eyes widened, and she was grabbing Moira's neck, gripping it's thin circumference within her grasp before her brain could catch up to the emotions that refused to die.

'Heheheh! How riveting…' Moira's grin widened. 'Are you going to kill me, Widowmaker? Are you going to fulfill that promise you made not so long ago? Then what? Escape Talon? Live a normal life? Pity. Impossible on both accounts. You're _trapped_ in a web; you're doing anything but _weaving_ it. Kill me, and another will replace me. Perhaps not as capable, but willing to perform just as many experiments on Talon's favourite toy.'

Another pause, Widow's mind clearing and the urge to snap this woman's windpipe in half overly enticing. However, the cruel reality of her words tore into Widow's chest, and she released Moira, stepping back and sitting on her bed. This notion of emptiness and defeat were…difficult.

'I will not hold that childish outburst against you, Widowmaker, for equilibrium will exist in you soon enough once again, and then we merely wait for the virus to overcome the suppressor currently attempting to save your ego. Unfortunately, it is a losing battle. Tragic, really. You are feeling approximately 40% more human than you have in quite some time, so some unprecedented actions are within the scope of my calculations. It would have been intriguing if you attempted to truthfully murder me, I will admit that much.'

'It will happen in time, Moira.' Widow tried, but even she knew they were empty words.

'I pray it does.' The doctor beamed. 'Now, get dressed. I want to run a physical diagnosis before you are put out in the field tonight. Don't waste any more of my time, my lovely tool.'

* * *

'This is Simon. A plain and terrible name. Say "hello", Simon.'

'Hello.'

'Good boy.'

Widow stretched her arms over her head, dismissing Moira's words as her senses continued to struggle to functionality anew. She was wearing a black bodysuit that stuck to her like another layer of skin. She tied her hair into its typical high ponytail, and eyed the equipment within one of Talon's virtual training, state-of-the-art facilities.

'Hello, there.' Widowmaker finally answered, not even looking at the Talon agent.

'Despite his dreadfully boring I.D., Simon has one of the best scores in this V.R. targeting simulator. In order to properly gauge the effects of your new medicine, and to soundly evaluate your state of mind for the upcoming mission, you will compete against him momentarily.'

A rush hit Widow at the thought. This was just what she needed. The kill – even a fake one – would centre her. The confusing thoughts plaguing her were distracting, the simplicity of her wrath far safer and comfortable to the young woman. She didn't want to think about her existence and purpose beyond the kill. She pushed back at her mind's muddled wavering, and began equipping herself with the virtual reality pieces, impressed that the sniper rifle held detail in its weight to better train inspiring candidates. It was no Widow's Kiss, but it would do.

'Well, someone's eager.'

The condescending tone didn't even bother Widow. She turned on the headset and selected the necessary options with her V.R. glove.

'Two player. Target practise. Expert mode. Waiting on player two.' Widow murmured, her heart beginning to make its presence known even through the modifications done to her ages ago.

'R-right.' Simon could be heard moving, presumably making the correct selections in order to link with his opponent. An icon popped up in front of Widow, asking if she wished to accept the challenger, and she smirked, confirming the choice.

'She is the best Talon has to offer, Simon. Do not feel bad should you not be capable of keeping up.'

The world formed around Widow, as real as real could be. She heard Moira's footsteps distance themselves, and the arena was complete. They were in a simulation of King's Row – likely Moira's tinkering instigating as much in the name of a cruel joke. Widow didn't care. As realistic as this toy was, it was nothing compared to the real thing. Child's play.

"Attackers incoming." A mechanized voice announced.

'Good luck.' Widow mocked, and before Simon could reply, the game began. Widow could sense the targets before they even appeared. She had already taken in her surroundings and ran simulations through her brain, anticipating the perfect points for her assailants to launch their fake attempts at murder. Widow moved like a machine, her actions not wasting a single motion to maximize her energy and effectiveness. More points were awarded for headshots. Widow didn't see anything but golden numbers appearing to indicate a successful critical blow. An intoxicating "ping" went off when virtual brains exploded, and the more intense the session became, the more elevated Widow's mindset.

"Ping." "Ping." "Ping." "Ping".

"Doub – tripl – quadru – quint – "

If the kill occurred within two seconds of the previous, a chain was initiated, and the points were multiplied accordingly. Because it was "expert" mode, the rate at which the targets appeared eventually reached inhuman expectations. Fortunately, Widowmaker wasn't quite human anymore.

"Ping." "Ping." "Ping." "Ping." "Ping."

"Boss incoming."

'I think I feel something…' Widow practically groaned despite the silliness of the game's indicators.

A blur flashed past Widowmaker, and she knew Moira would try such a thing. It was just how the woman operated. Surprisingly, the graphical recreation of Tracer was fairly decent, and the "boss" jetted around the screen as the Overwatch hero would have. But after approximately five bursts, Widowmaker waited for the slight pause in the girl's actions. If this was an attempt to train Talon agents against one of Overwatch's best, it had to be as accurate as possible. Tracer's "blinks", as they were called, were limited in quantity depending on how far and frequently she used the ability. A form of recharge was necessary, and the second Widow sensed the miniscule slowdown in the girl's actions, she heard the final "ping", and the game ended with a high score that absolutely demolished whatever Simon had managed before or now even.

'Unbelievable.' Simon took off the headset, breathing heavily. 'You really _are_ a monster.'

'Hmph.' Widow huffed with just a slight pinch of pride. She didn't particularly fancy being called a "monster", but she was feeling less and less, the game only serving to entice her lust for real combat and killing.

A slow clap approached, and Moira looked sincerely pleased for once.

'Impressive, indeed. Not a single miss. That score will serve as a benchmark for anyone claiming they have skills comparable to Talon's favourite assassin. Well done, Widowmaker.'

'You see? Your adjustments aren't necessary.' Widow finally had the high ground, but why did it feel like Moira was still looking down on her.

'Should virtual reality reflect physical reality, your words would carry weight, yet pixels and computer graphics cannot possibly compare to the field. Do the same to that little girl during your next mission and you may have some semblance of footing before me, otherwise, the drug continues to work its way through your biological makeup, and I believe Talon will be quite pleased to see what sort of tool I present within a week or two.'

Widowmaker blinked, but beyond that, she refused to answer. She, instead, stripped the equipment off and allowed it to collapse to the ground. She then walked away without another word, her hips swaying seductively amidst her brain's inability to cope appropriately.

'Clean this up, Simon. Thank-you for your time. Your score was quite good, truthfully. She was something of a "hack", one might say.'

'Yes, m'am.'

Widow walked through the halls of Talon, her eyes lashing about and her stoic face twitching. What was she feeling? Why was she feeling? She should be normal again, but this…This was something else entirely. Her world was narrowing into a dark tunnel, and her mind filtered thoughts of purpose and mortality. The kill was all she wanted, and the drug Moira gave her should have settled the anxiety, but something was happening, and she hated it.

Widowmaker stumbled into her room and slammed the door shut, leaning against the barricade and staring up at that disgusting roof again. Her room was more akin to a cell, and that shouldn't have bothered her, but it did now. Her bed was small. Her clothes were limited. Her food was boring. What did she do in between missions? How long until she departed? What had Moira done to her?

"Widowmaker." A voice spoke through her intercom, and the sniper held her breath. It was the leader of Talon. The distorted sounds were unmistakeable.

'…Yes?'

"You will be rendezvousing with Doomfist during your next mission. The details of your task are outlined in the following e-mail. Review it and prepare yourself appropriately."

'Yes.'

"Your dress will arrive soon. Don't disappoint me."

'Affirmative.'

A mission. Good. Enough of these pitiful thoughts and ideas. A kill. It's all she wanted. She would bury herself as well. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else –

Widow didn't move, finally registering the words that had just been spoken to her.

'A dress…?'

* * *

 _He never cried. He refused to. He claimed it would emasculate him. How very like the man. But the moment – the second – Amelie stepped out into the aisle for all to see, hundreds upon thousands of dollars worth of pure white material enclosed around her, he cried. He sobbed. He claimed he was never happier. Amelie believed him. She believed him because she felt the same._

 _She_ felt _the same._


	16. XVI: Mercy

Mercy

'Simply take care when handling your regular workout routines and you should be fine. It's just a strained muscle, but it could progress to something worse if you are not careful, understand?'

'Yes, Dr. Ziegler.'

An awkward pause. This young soldier wanted to do it. Perhaps he was even dared to. With the mission to Russia still in planning, there was a lull in activities for the "grunts" of Overwatch. Winston's absence didn't quite help matters either. Still, such trivial frivolities almost disgusted Angela, and she quickly stood up, pretending to fiddle with some of her medical utensils in a dismissive matter.

'Was there anything else, my good young man?' She said teasingly, but wanted to subtly remind the soldier that he was quite a bit younger than her. Nine years her junior, to be exact, according to his file. He had enough muscle and angle to his facial features to belie such a fact, and he wasn't bad looking at all, but his file gave Angela all the information she wanted. She didn't have any interest in someone so far from her present life's place. She was already incredibly mature and brilliant, so it would be an uphill battle for the poor soul's ego, and she knew how that story played out.

'Ahem…' He cleared his throat. His name was Bradley. Now that Angela thought about it, he was the same soldier who had shown Fareeha to her room a few days ago.

'I just wanted to ask you something, Dr. Ziegler, and it may be unprofessional, but I wasn't sure who to turn to.'

Angela raised a brow, misdiagnosing the situation, perhaps. She turned once again, leaning against her desk, a familiar lab coat brushing her legs.

'Yes?'

'It is about Fareeha.'

Angela's eyes fluttered. She wasn't completely off, but for some reason this subject matter dishevelled her just a little bit. She hadn't seen Fareeha since they had arrived. Angela was overly busy setting up her office and work space. Jack wanted her help with planning the mission to Russia. A number of soldiers needed her medical advice. It's not like Angela hadn't thought of Fareeha, but it was done in passing. She liked it that way. The Egyptian had already left a mark on the older woman she didn't generally prefer to have. But the events of their encounter could yield no other results. It was only natural. It was only…natural.

'Fareeha Amari?'

'Yes. I've been assisting with her orientation. She's a talented soldier.'

'She is that.' Angela admitted easily, recalling how impressive Fareeha had been during their encounters in Ilios and Iraq. Impressive and…chivalric even. More chivalrous than any man had been to Angela before. How funny that it took a woman to prove the existence of such a thing to the good doctor.

'I understand that you and she spent some time together before arriving here. She speaks exceptionally highly of you.'

A skip in Angela's pulse, and she chuckled inwardly at herself. How silly her body could be at times.

'Yes, well, we endured quite the ordeal together.'

'It's good to see you both well.'

'Thank-you.'

Bradley hesitated again, and Angela tried to appear more inviting now that she knew she wasn't the one being asked out. However, she struggled with even this for whatever reason.

'I'm sorry. This feels foolish. But I don't want to bother Fareeha, so I'll just come out and ask: Do you think it would be ill-mannered of me to ask Ms. Amari out for a drink sometime?'

A pause, and Angela's right eye twitched.

'It depends. Would the intent be romantic?'

'…Ideally.'

'Hm.' Angela thought about Fareeha being put in such a position. This man seemed as though he had a similar cultural background, and he was very polite. He certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. Fareeha deserved to find some form of love in her life. She wasn't like Angela. She hadn't given up on such a fantasy, from what the older woman could ascertain. All these factors pointed toward a simple conclusion. It wasn't really Angela's business to begin with. Giving this man the correct encouragement could very well allow Fareeha the opportunity to meet her soulmate. How wonderful would that be? And Angela could have a hand in the girl's happiness. Just a simple affirmation toward Bradley's confidence was all that it would take. There was no reason not to.

'I don't think that would be appropriate at the time being.' Angela's words flowed from her mouth as though she were in a dream. She understood what she said a moment later, and could only commit to the reality of her recommendation. Her analysis of the situation was on point, yet her conclusion baffled even her. Bradley's dejected expression was proof that Angela had just curbed his intent with a baffling display of possessiveness.

'You…don't?'

'I do not.' Angela said more firmly now, still twisting in her mind with confusion.

'Can I ask "why"?'

'It hasn't been that long since Fareeha has arrived. I would give her some breathing space. Interact with her still, of course, and gauge your relationship accordingly. A woman has a way of letting someone she's interested in know it. If you are capable of picking up on some subtly flirtatious mannerisms, then act on your instinct, but at the moment, I suspect you are drawn to Fareeha's undeniable beauty. I commend you for that, by the by, because she is somewhat intimidating as well. The fact you see past the rather prickly outer display she presents is encouraging. My prescription is that of allowing time to work some of its magic.'

Bradley nodded away, obviously disappointed, but receptive.

'That makes sense. Yeah. Now that I think about it, I _should_ give her a little space. She seems a bit out of it sometimes, like she's looking for something or…someone.'

Angela's voice was caught in her throat, but then she smirked, shaking her head angrily with herself.

'Her mother served Overwatch in a legendary way. There is no doubt she subconsciously seeks her out still; primarily when surrounded by remnants of Ana's spirit.'

'True. I hadn't thought of that…'

'In any case, you are my last planned patient for the day. I need to procure some dinner so, if you wouldn't mind…'

'Of course. I'm sorry for taking some of your time.'

'Not at all. Good day, Bradley.'

'Have a good night.'

'Ah. Yes. I suppose it's that late already.'

Bradley was gone, and Angela shirked off her lab coat, striding to her own private washroom and cleaning her face, feeling the easily accessible heated water drip down her cheeks as she stared at the reflection. Why had she cared so desperately about whether or not Fareeha was asked out? It was none of her business whatsoever. She made a point of not getting too involved on an emotional level with anyone, yet she expounded upon her reasoning for Fareeha almost intimately well, exemplifying a supposed closeness between the two of them potentially.

Then, it struck her in the chest, and the woman's knees almost buckled. She gripped the sink, breathing in sharply, her mind literally prickling with sharp pains even all her nanotechnology couldn't combat.

'Of course…' Angela muttered, her voice cracking. 'She's like a sister. Hah…' Angela's throat broke, and her mouth tightened, eyes burning with tears. 'Like the sister I could have had.'

There was no other explanation, really. Since their first encounter, Angela felt something different in relation to Fareeha Amari. Her connection to Ana assisted, but Fareeha's personality and mannerisms were endearing to Angela, and she was immediately infatuated with the younger woman, the urge to tease her overwhelming. Fareeha herself was a lovely person, and obviously had a sincerely honest heart and nature that Angela valued in these trying times. She was protective of her, and thus, she discouraged a man from even looking at her sister in such a way.

'But it changes nothing.' Angela wiped her eyes and glared at the woman who looked back at her. 'No matter how long you live, how righteous you act, or how many lives you save, it changes _nothing_.'

A knock on her door. The doctor sighed in frustration, trying her best to mask the breakdown that had almost seized her. Angela opened the entrance to her office and found Jack. It was a relief. She wasn't sure she could handle another agent's bump or bruise just to meet with the "famous" Dr. Ziegler.

'Angela. Are…you okay?'

Curses. He could see it right away. Why hadn't Jack's eyesight diminished yet?

'I'm fine, Jack. What do you need?' The lack of pleasantries required was refreshing.

'There's someone who's ready to see you. Do you have a moment?' The fact he didn't pry was nice, too. Regardless, Jack's tone suggested an amount of desperation, so Angela nodded.

'Of course. Lead the way.'

'We'll take a less guarded route. I think you're in for a surprise.'

'Oh, I do love surprises.' Angela mocked, but it wasn't completely a lie. Anything was better than the darkness that had almost threatened her mental wellbeing after all this time.

* * *

The "surprise" that awaited Angela wasn't anything she could possibly have imagined, however. When she entered a secluded living quarter within a rarely used part of the base, her eyes widened in disbelief at the person Jack presented to her. The figure rose, robes and cloth all about her, but a warrior's stance and a somewhat familiar glimmer of confidence in her one revealed eye.

'Ana…!' Angela covered her mouth, and the kind smile from the older woman confirmed any lingering suspicion.

'How are you, Angela? It's been some time, hasn't it?'

Angela stepped lightly to her old friend, resisting the urge to hug her, but clearly wishing to. She didn't want to jinx this, nor could she humour the emotions swirling in her mind regarding another, similarly structured individual.

'I-I'm fine. But what of you? Where have you been? And…your eye…'

'Yes. A lot has happened, and I needed some time, but it's simply impossible for me to turn my back on what I can feel is happening to our world. Another war is coming, and so long as there's life in these bones, I'll fight until the end.'

Angela's doctoral mind was working in overdrive, and she cupped her chin thoughtfully.

'I suppose I am of the same mind.' She paused, seeing a small grin form on the charming, elderly woman's wrinkling face. 'But you know, Ana…there are procedures we could look into to repair your eye, if that is an issue.'

The legendary sniper sighed, always with a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

'You're very kind, but I'm comfortable with who I am now. It's a good reminder.'

Angela knew enough not to press the matter. Ana was her own woman; that was something the doctor had learned very quickly. The handicap wasn't ideal, but Angela wouldn't push for now. She felt she didn't have that form of authority.

'Do you mind if I ask what happened?'

'Only if you are fine with the brief version. On a mission, I was confronted with someone I knew in the enemy lines. I hesitated, and paid the price.'

'You know her. Amelie Lacroix. Works for Talon now. They did something to her. She's become a living weapon.' Jack stepped in, clearing his gruff voice as he spoke.

'Gerard's wife? But she was just a performer, was she not?' Angela's memories of the individuals weren't exactly crystal clear, but Gerard's mission of taking down the much smaller Talon at the time was something most Overwatch higher ups knew about.

'You'd be surprised what Talon is capable of. They obviously have someone on par with you when it comes to matters of biological and neural manipulation. Unfortunately for us, _they_ don't have morals. They're making monsters. Gabriel is just another example.'

'Pardon? Gabriel Reyes?' Angela blinked rapidly, pushing down the annoyance surfacing from Jack's claim.

'Just the same. Jack and I confronted him shortly before making our way back here.' Ana said distantly, any semblance of a smile gone from her aging visage.

'Can barely call him that anymore. Codename: Reaper. He's obsessed with death and destruction. He's got a vendetta against Overwatch…can't say I blame him. Gave Ana and I a run for our money. He's still got it.' Jack hid his emotions well, but Angela could see how pained he was by these facts, and she could understand wholeheartedly. Jack and Gabriel were rivals, undoubtedly, but they were more akin to brothers than anything else. To have that relationship become so warped, and to have so much time pass only to meet in such a way, Jack would have to be a monster himself not to feel anything. Considering the changes in his personality, it was good to see his heart was still the same, if much more guarded.

'This…is a lot to take in.' Angela responded, trying to understand that Ana Amari was before her again. Still, despite it all, Angela's mind was distracted, and she could only ask the question that had plagued her the moment she saw this master of the gun. 'Your daughter is here. Did you know that?'

Ana chuckled sadly, breathing out in a methodic way afterward.

'I do.'

'Are you going to see her? She thinks you are no longer of this world.'

'I am not certain it would be best to make myself known to her just yet.'

'And why is that?' Angela heard an edge in her tone that surprised her. Even Jack shuffled his footing, possibly noticing the shift.

'I never wanted this for her. I wanted to keep her safe. She refused to listen to me, and we left one another's lives not on the best of terms. Now, she's fighting in Overwatch? There couldn't be a more dangerous battlefield. She's not ready.'

Angela's hand clenched, and she bit at her lip in frustration, the rising emotion continuing to perplex her.

'She's a grown woman, Ana. I've seen her in action myself. She's more than ready. She protected my life with skills and courage. She rose in the ranks of the Egyptian army. She's been trusted with one of the most powerful weapons a singular human could wield beyond mechanized suits and the like. I mean no disrespect, but I have to adamantly disagree with your analysis of your daughter's abilities. She will prove more than an asset to Overwatch. Winston knows this, and that's why he personally recruited her. Her time is now, and she will make you proud, of that I promise.'

A pause. Jack was keeping quiet, but his arms were crossed, looking to Ana for a response. Angela might have even caught a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

'You speak of her with an odd amount of affection, Angela. I wasn't aware you were so close to Fareeha.'

'I-I'm not.' Angela stammered, her chest tightening. 'We just spent some time together, and I was able to understand her quite well. Near-death scenarios have the tendency to bring souls closer, I would imagine.'

'Hm. True…' Ana huffed, shaking her head still. 'I'll consider your words, Dr. Ziegler, but for now, I stand by my decision. She needs to focus. Having "mommy" around won't do that child any favours.'

Angela wanted to provide yet another rebuttal, but she was suddenly self-conscious of her actions, and remained silent.

'It is ultimately your decision.'

'Indeed.' Ana agreed.

'Are we done here? Good.' Jack cut in sharply. 'There's plenty to do, and Winston is taking his leisurely time getting back here. I've received confirmation of a few other "old friends" returning to the fight. Our forces are strengthening, but we can't be too careful. Talon is moving forward with their plans as much as we are. There's also the crisis in Russia that we'll be assisting with soon. The situation is being evaluated, but I'm assuming we'll be sending a special unit to help with that particular war. It's just the beginning. It's only a matter of time before other places get as bad. We're in over our heads.'

'Do we have an E.T.A. for Winston's team returning?' Ana shifted all focus without missing a beat. Thoughts of how Fareeha would feel about Ana's survival wouldn't release Angela, but she pushed the feelings down, as always, and joined the conversation.

'From what I understand, Tracer and Genji are with him?'

'Yes.' Jack nodded. 'However, their potential opponent could give even such an elite squad trouble. I'm waiting to hear from Winston, but I'm beginning to have my doubts.'

'Well, then I best prepare my facilities just in case. Keep me informed, would you?' Angela dismissed herself, knowing the meeting was concluded for the time being. Jack and Ana could talk war all they wanted, but Angela wanted to focus elsewhere. Until they heard something about Winston, any major operations were on hold for the moment.

The doctor made it back to her office without much fuss beyond some newer Overwatch agents wanting to greet her. Once the solitude of her workspace was found, Angela hung her lab coat and sat in her chair, the back of it allowing her to lean comfortably. It was rare for her to take a moment for herself, but she could only sit and think, pushing past the dark ceiling of her sanctuary.

At once, being part of Overwatch was as fulfilling as ever, but at the same time, it meant participating in death and destruction. Jack and Ana were ready to kill, yet Angela wanted no part of such an act. It was a foolhardy mindset at best, but it was how she felt, and no matter of time would change that. Angela was given her gift to help and heal, not warp humanity, as her supposed rival in Talon willingly did. Speaking of which, Angela should like to meet this individual. If she could persuade them to join Overwatch, perhaps they could formulate a way to mass produce the nanomachines within Angela for all of humanity. How wonderful would that be?

'Heheh…' Angela laughed, pushing a hand through her blonde hair and undoing her ponytail.

She was being hopelessly romantic. Someone who was far gone enough to twist their talent in a way that could change an innocent girl into a killing machine was lost. Even Angela wouldn't think anything else. She was tired, and she knew it. She was also, oddly enough, feeling quite lonely, which was rather rare. Angela valued her downtime when she had it, but the last few days proved the hum of her equipment wasn't enough anymore. Was all this talk of partnership and love over the last week affecting her? How silly.

Angela allowed an uncontrollable thought of Fareeha to pass through her intelligent mind one more time before she dismissed the girl altogether and prepared to get some food and call it a night as soon as possible. She needed refreshment. She needed to stop thinking so incessantly for once in her life.


	17. XVII: Tracer

Tracer

Numbani. The new age city that represented precisely what Tracer fought for. The moment she stepped off her private cruiser, she was greeted by numerous workers, accepting her presence with hesitation, but accepting it nonetheless. Although no official word had been sent out to arrest the infamous Tracer, Lena knew it was only a matter of time before Overwatch agents would have to move much more discreetly when on missions.

Still, Lena couldn't help but smile at the sheer mixture of humans and omnics alike going about their day the second she was out and about in the sprawling metropolis that was Numbani. It was a city of the future, and it's what Mondatta was fighting for. It's what Tracer would continue fighting for until she could fight no more.

Lena pulled her luggage behind her and breathed in the clean air, the hustle and bustle of the city glorious, and the posters advertising Lucio's incredible upcoming concert proudly on display. The man was a living incarnation of the territory's values. His concert was going to be anything but subtle, in the grand scheme of things, and the more Lena took in her current surroundings, the more she could only assume this mission might turn into something much grander than anyone could expect.

Nonetheless, Lena could draw joy from her circumstances, and she was quick to flash her charming smile and offer a helping hand to any who needed it. Her loose, mid-drift bearing white t-shirt allowed for a faint glow from her chronal accelerator to leak through just a little, but otherwise, she looked just like any other citizen of the fair city, for the most part. She was recognized by the more observant, but Numbani was excessively busy, and navigating the city meant bumping shoulders here and there; especially with the amount of individuals traveling to the space for Lucio's concert alone.

'Oi, big guy, you got me in somethin' of a party alright…' Tracer muttered to herself, extracting her phone and initiating the G.P.S. service to assist with finding her hotel. She could've hailed a cab, she supposed, but she didn't mind the walk, and simply valued this moment of peace. This glimpse of what life _could_ be was encouraging. Humans. Omnics. They could all be one within the Iris. Mondatta wasn't wrong. Talon was the enemy. That woman was the enemy.

Widowmaker. Amelie.

No. She was a victim, too. If Lena could just talk to her properly, then maybe…

'Oof!' Lena felt a severe impact, her whole body pushed practically over.

'Ah! Sorry 'bout that, missy! Crowded here, yeah?' A man apologized before being on his way.

'That's putting it lightly.' Lena sighed, straightening up her clothes and noticing her phone was gone. She could only roll her eyes because, from what she could see, the man who had "bumped" into her was sprinting. He was fast, too. A fit chap who was using the crowd and amplified business of the streets to his advantage. It was a good plan, really, except for one tiny variable he failed to anticipate…

'Strapped for cash, are we?' Lena was midair as she said this, perfectly sliding between a small opening in the crowd. She had her phone back in her hand a second later, winking at the dumbfounded thief, before recalling, the whole exchange lasting less than three seconds.

'Now, where were we?' She giggled, the people around her who had managed to not blink during the event suddenly realizing who she was.

'Tracer! It's Tracer!'

'Oh, my gosh! Are you here for the concert as well?'

'Did you just teleport? That's amazing!'

The comments went on and on, and Lena's chest filled with pride, even if she heard one or two belittling words about "criminal activity" and "Blackwatch" threatening to sting her confidence.

'Just visiting, just visiting! Heheh! Cheers, luvs! 'Preciate the support!' And she did, truly, but she also couldn't risk making a bigger scene than had already developed. As much as she wanted to mingle with the people of Numbani, now that Lena was an active member of Overwatch again, there were risks involved with her actions. The museum stunt was borderline criminal, and it would only get worse.

Lena managed to peel herself away from the crowd, and slipped into a small coffee shop with a lion as part of its emblem. The name of the little joint was Kofi Aromo, and the Overwatch agent was in love with the warm-green aesthetics right away. It was crowded, as expected, but Lena lucked out when a couple decided to leave immediately upon her entrance. She swiped the seating via placing her suitcase in one of the stylish, oval chairs, and went to the counter, overjoyed to find an omnic and human working side by side as naturally as could be.

'G'day there, Luv. How goes the battle?' Lena gave the girl behind the counter a wink. She was a pretty little thing, with a blonde pixie cut, light blue eyes, and slight freckles around her nose. Her nametag read "Jessica", which was almost painfully boring, but somehow fitting.

'Busy, but I'm surviving.'

'I bet. Good for business, innit?'

'Oh, for sure, but not great for my stress.'

'I stepped in at just the right time, huh? No line or nothin'?'

'We move pretty fast. Al here works quick.' Jessica grinned, finally meeting Lena's eyes. If Lena wasn't still sore about her departure from Emily, she might have flirted a little more aggressively, but she diverted her gaze, and nodded to Al instead.

'Looks like you know what you're doin' there, Al!'

'But of course!' Al's semi-mechanized voice responded gleefully.

'So, what can Al and I get for you?'

Lena placed her order after taking a moment to work through the menu and then bid the lovely duo adieu, a creamy, steaming cup of extravagant coffee in one hand and a glazing donut in the other. She wanted to take a picture of Al and Jessica working away, but wasn't sure how stealthily she could pull such a thing off without the high risk of seeming creepy. Instead, Lena committed to recalling this image anytime she lost confidence in her fight, and just the thought gave her heart a skip.

'Thanks, Winston…' Lena smiled, sliding into her seat and understanding exactly what her old friend had done for her by assigning this mission. The incredible gorilla was one of the most powerful individuals Lena knew, but he also housed an equally strong heart. The young Brit was honoured to be counted among one of his companions, and she wouldn't allow her emotions to weigh her down again until the fight was over. They didn't have time for her to lose face. She practically represented Overwatch in some ways.

Lena checked her phone's messages, not finding anything awaiting her but Emily's last text before they had officially "broken up". She was tempted to delete the three-word sentence, but couldn't bring herself to do it just yet. It was too soon.

Instead, Lena enjoyed her coffee and donut in relative peace. The ambiance of Kofi Aromo was perfect, and the simple act of sitting and listening to all the snapshots of others' lives was calming. Lena wasn't one to stay still for long, but she was starting to get its value now that she was taking a moment. Before she knew it, nearly a half an hour went by. Jessica and Al were still working away, their brief conversations with customers charming anyone who would allow it, and the sun was _just_ beginning to move into the horizon's direction, a slight tinge of red splashing over the streets.

'Whelp, time to get a move on.' Lena poked at her cup, and just as she was about to get on her way, a girl sat in the seat across from her, sighing as she did so with an incredibly tiny mug steaming in her fingers. She didn't say anything initially, and Lena could only take the individual in during the period of silence between the two young women. She was very likely Hispanic, and she wore almost heavily violet makeup that only accentuated her natural, wild beauty just right. Her hair was stylized unconventionally, giving her something of a "punk" look, but even with the purple dye in her locks, she pulled it off well and with confidence. The small mole under her left eye was like a cherry on a cake, and Lena had to admit to herself that, other than Amelie (and, perhaps with heavy bias, Emily), few females were so undeniably attractive.

'Hey…' The girl practically hummed in boredom, so much so that Lena nearly felt that _she_ was the one imposing, not her new "friend".

'Hey there, Luv. Somethin' I can help you with?'

The girl's eyebrow went up, and she grinned in a devilish manner, but also somehow seductively as well.

'Oh, I'm thinking there's lots you can help me with, but for now, I'm just saying "hey".'

Lena wished she could accept the words easily, yet, in her line of work, it wasn't the smartest move to trust anyone at the drop of a hat. This girl was interesting, but the way she just planted herself before Lena was a little suspicious.

'So, you here for the big bad concert tonight? Hear it's gonna be a good time. Got my glow sticks and everything ready to go.'

It was hard to know whether or not to take this person seriously. She delivered everything so dryly and distantly, with ever a small curl twitching at the corner of her lips.

'I was thinkin' about it.'

'Yeah? Could be fun if we met up there, too, if you know what I mean?' The girl winked, and Lena couldn't help feeling flattered amongst her caution.

'Do you always flirt with random blokes you meet on the street?' Lena laughed.

'Only the cute ones; and you're one of the cutest. Specially with that little machine under there. I'm a techy, you know? So, you really snatched my eye with that piece of hardware. Maybe I can get a peek after the party? Sound like a plan, _Tracer_?'

Lena blinked. It wasn't a massive red flag, but this wasn't a friendly banter anymore either. She had to be careful. Lena didn't exactly hide her sexuality, but it wasn't something that she broadcasted as well. Either this girl knew about Lena's preferences relationally already, or she had gotten wildly lucky with her assertiveness.

'Huh. I usually go by Lena in public, but yeah, I guess you got me.' Lena shrugged, trying to hide her internal thoughts as best as she could. 'Not quite fair that you know my name and I don't known yours though, innit?'

'True.' The girl tapped her cheek, staring into Tracer's eyes carefully now. 'You can call me Oli. Fair?'

'That your real name, Luv?'

'Close enough.'

'Oli, eh? Cute.'

'If you say so.'

'And what can I do for Oli?'

Oli giggled, standing back up again and cocking her head to the side.

'Nothing right now. Just wanted to say "hi". I'll see you at the concert. Save me a dance, "Luv".'

'Wait!' Lena almost stood, and Oli glanced behind herself. 'This concert is a good thing. This city is a good thing. You get it, right?'

'Oh, for sure.' Oli sighed, and she waved Lena off, disappearing out of the café and into the crowd.

* * *

At her hotel room, Lena finished sending Winston all the information she could regarding her encounter with Oli. There were zero matches in Talon's archives, but those were limited to begin with, and Lena was told to approach her task with even more care than before. Her friend agreed that this "Oli" individual was eccentric at the very least, which made it overly complex to comprehend precisely what her purpose had been with Tracer.

Was she simply flirting? Lena wasn't exactly ready for a relationship until Overwatch's mission was complete, but the idea of a little fling wasn't terrible either. Obviously guilt filled her gut at the mere thought, but a distraction from these emotions anytime she thought of Emily wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

'Oi. Gotta keep it together. Important mission here.' Lena popped on some fun, uplifting music, and began shuffling through her bag, tossing aside various articles of clothing to decide on what to wear exactly to this enormous concert that she had been invited to in the name of Overwatch and its relation with Lucio himself.

Lena decided on some fun, red short shorts, an impressive pair of branded runners, and a yellow shirt that hung loosely over her stomach and off of her right shoulder. The colour did a better job of hiding her chronal accelerator, and when the young woman tossed about her hair with some dry wax, she was satisfied after a final touch of eyeliner makeup was applied to accentuate her wide eyes. One final evaluation in the mirror pleased Lena enough to not think about her appearance further, and she checked the time, seeing that there were about two more hours before she had to start lining up to get in even as a marked V.I.P.

'What to do? What to do?' Lena rested her hands on her hips and swayed back and forth, glancing about her (admittedly) beautiful hotel room. The queen-sized bed was impressive on its own, but the enormous, paper-thin television only made the space feel like it belonged to some sort of C.E.O. Not exactly Tracer's style, but she could appreciate the statement being made.

'Guess bopping around the city isn't the worst idea, huh?' Lena hummed aloud, and patted her phone in her short pocket. She thought about bringing her Pulse Pistols, but as soon as she considered it, a montage of potential complications burst through her brain, and she knew better. If necessary, she could always snatch a security guard's weapon to subdue any supernatural threat. Otherwise, she knew Lucio to be a man of peace first and foremost, not favouring the violence that major corporations were quick to use in order to get what they wanted. She wouldn't promote such tactics in any way unless absolutely necessary.

Lena took the elevator down from the 20th floor of the hotel all the way to the ground floor, hopping out with an animated "hup" and greeting the various bellmen and workers on her way outside. Her cheery personality made even the sternest individual at least wave, and within moments, she was back on the streets of Numbani, the crowd only growing since she had arrived. The sun was nearly completely set, and the sight was beautiful, with a blanket of red laying across the silvers and greens of the still somewhat newly created city.

Lena stretched her neck back, looking high into the sky at the buildings and the holographic advertisements that played every which way. Lights were blinking on almost as she passed, and omnics alongside humans traversed the space as though it was the most natural thing. It was something Lena wanted to show Emily, and she almost snapped a picture to send, but resisted, knowing it was a mean thing to do. They were done. It was over. They had both agreed. So, why did it still hurt _so_ much?

'Oh, now I know you're stalking me.' Oli's accented voice blurred into Lena's ear, and it was as if she had appeared out of thin air, suddenly rubbing shoulders with the Overwatch agent.

'Oho! Pot calling the kettle black here, wouldn't you say?' Lena laughed, but knew she was truthfully happy to see a (semi) familiar face amongst the strangers all around her.

'Meh. Apples and oranges.'

'What does that even mean?'

'Whatever you want it to, girly.'

Lena breathed out, pulling Oli to the side of the street where they could stand without being bumped into or pushed past every half a second.

'What do you want? Are you an enemy?'

'Heh. Nice. So, you're not only some gun happy Brit. Just broke up with your little lady friend, too. Good to see you're still thinking straight.'

Lena swallowed, her eyes darting from side to side. Oli was no longer "possibly" a threat. If she had that kind of information, then she was most likely –

'Talon's personal hacker. Codename: Sombra. Nice to meet you, Tracer. Still want a taste?' Sombra licked her lips, and Lena's fists clenched. An agent of Talon so openly identifying themselves? Was this girl totally out of her mind? 'You can handcuff me if you want. I'm kinda into that, you know?'

'Are you crazy? If you know so much about me you know I'm your enemy. I…I could arrest you right now!'

'Could you? But what have I done? And under what license? You gonna be taken seriously all of a sudden? You're the one closer to breaking the law in that case; not me.' Sombra tapped Tracer's bottom lip, and she swat the girl's hand away anxiously, her brain and heart running a mile a minute.

'Then what's your game, huh?'

'Look. I work for Talon, sure, and maybe I've stolen something here and there, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get by in this world sometimes, you know? I'm not the real bad guy here. I just take a job every so often to put a roof over my head. Overwatch wants to pay me better? I work for them. But I got myself a pretty shady past, so my resume might not make the cut.'

'Did you even try?'

'Aw. You're sweet. But where I come from, I didn't really have a choice.'

'There's always a better option!'

'That's where you're wrong, Ms. Stupidly Optimistic.' Sombra's smile finally faded, and her jaw tightened in a sincerely angry way. 'When you have nothing and nobody to help you, you're forced to claw your way out of a pit or die with the rest of them. The Omnic War left the world in shambles, some places more than others, so don't pretend you know what everyone went through while you were playing hero safe and sound.'

Lena opened her mouth to respond, but she realized she couldn't; not against that undeniable truth. Sombra grinned again, swaying her head from side to side.

'Right now, I'm off the clock. I'm just a normal, everyday girl like you. Thought I'd enjoy myself some fun. Heard this Lucio guy is pretty good. I happen to like dancing, so, here I am. Heard through the grapevine you were coming. Also heard you like girls and just broke up with yours because, I'm assuming, being in Overwatch makes some things a little risky. I like to have fun with whoever piques my interest. Ding. You're the lucky winner tonight. You game?'

'You can't be serious.' Lena practically whined, hating that she was actually tempted.

'Oh, I am, "Luv". And between you and me, Talon doesn't know you're here. Like I said: I do my own thing unless they pay me. Other than that, I'm a freelancer through and through. They hate it, but those were my terms. Sure, they could probably take me out, but whatever, I'll risk it for a taste of what being "alive" means. Kinda like our good friend, Widowmaker, you feel me?'

'Widowmaker…?'

'Heheh. Did I strike another nerve? You lost to her. Big time. One of Overwatch's best couldn't stop the assassination of one of the most important robots that practically represented your cause. Ouch. Big boo-boo.'

Lena grit her teeth, but she had come to terms with that failure even if it still stung.

'You have a funny way of flirting there, Luv…'

'Well, I was just thinking that it's the perfect time to enjoy a concert, right? You gotta make friends with Lucio, and I gotta get rid of some of this energy. Win-win, am I wrong? Plus, if we're hanging out, you can make sure I'm not being a naughty girl. Or, at least, naughty on your terms only. Heheh! Now _that_ sounds like a swell idea!'

'You're insane. You're actually completely daft.'

'Oh, I like it when you say things like that with your little accent. So cute. Anyway, what do you think?'

Lena shook her head, but Sombra's last point made sense. Either let this hacker run rampant during such an important event or keep tabs on her and maybe even have a little fun somehow if what any of what she said was true. Lena believed some of her words, but she wasn't convinced she could trust this little spitfire quite so easily yet. Either way, Sombra had played her hand well, and Lena Oxton didn't see any other option than to proceed as carefully as possible with this woman in tow. It was her duty to ensure Sombra didn't cause any mischief, and she had no doubt the hacker planned for her to have that exact line of thinking.

'You don't fool me. Obviously, there's a chance this is part of some bigger plan, but you know what? I'm gonna risk it.' Lena threw her arm over Sombra's shoulders, bringing the girl in close and believing she caught a quick snapshot of honest disbelief in Sombra's face before she regained her composure hastily. 'The only question I have is this: think you can you keep up, Luv?'


	18. XVIII: Pharah

Pharah

'With the main force preparing to make a move into Russia, there's only so many personnel available for a mission like this. We're a small unit, but our job isn't trivial either. This is a chance to make something of yourself within the ranks of Overwatch. Keep focussed. We'll be landing soon.'

"Yes, sir!"

Fareeha responded as expected of her, checking her gun over and sliding it into its holster with practised ease. It felt strange going into a mission like this without her suit. Granted, the tiny aircraft had it on board, just in case, but this infiltration job made its use just a little too risky right out of the gate. She then brought out her phone and checked over the specifics of her job, reminding herself that their current destination, Lijiang Tower, had become a bee's nest of omnics gone rogue due to the resurfacing God Program. Without massive destruction to the tower itself, which served as the central base to Lucheng Interstellar, the Chinese army couldn't risk any major moves. According to Jack, Overwatch offered its specialized aid discreetly, and thus, Fareeha was enlisted in her first real job.

'Sergeant?' Fareeha began, meeting her commanding officer's stern, powerful gaze. He had an impressive scar cut from the corner of his mouth to his left ear, and his eyes were like ice. He was meant to be intimidating, especially to "new" recruits like Fareeha and Bradley beside her.

'What is it, Private?'

Fareeha bit back at the unintentional insult. She had been a captain of her own squad in the Egyptian army. She wasn't as green as the rest of them, and yet, she was treated as such. Angela was so far away now. They hadn't talked in so long. She had expected such a thing to happen, but the reality of it was far more trying than anticipated. They were in different worlds despite being so close. Why did it hurt so?

'May I make a suggestion to our strategy?'

She heard Bradley sniff beside her, possibly becoming nervous at the gull of such a question.

'No. Our plan is sound. You've all been trained for something this small in scale. Our profession is dealing with omnics. There aren't a lot of them, but enough. We dismantle them quickly and efficiently before they decide to get agitated. End of story. Review the floor plans to the tower. Our path is secured. Jack gave his personal consent to the mission I outlined.'

'My Raptora Mark VI could provide us with a more efficient – '

'We're not using your toy, Private. It was deemed unrequired.'

Fareeha grit her teeth, her jaw sliding outward slightly, but she held any further comments within. Sergeant Gracion had his credentials, and Fareeha would respect them, but he barely ranked higher than her, technically. It was a hard pill to swallow, yet Fareeha withheld the urge to push her point, and simply remained quiet from then onward for the sake of her team's morale. She would prove herself soon enough. Her name, Pharah, would be placed among the other Overwatch heroes. It had always been her goal.

Maybe then…

'What were you going to say?' Bradley mumbled under his breath.

Fareeha didn't feel it necessary to answer, but she and Bradley _had_ developed a relatively reasonable friendship since she started in Overwatch. He helped her get integrated into everyday life in Overwatch, and was always almost overly ready to help her when she needed anything at all. Perhaps he felt an immediate kinship because of their shared cultural backgrounds.

'…I was going to suggest I use my suit to create a distraction outside the building while the squad takes the back route described in our briefing.'

'Oh? That sort of puts you in danger though, doesn't it?'

'Maybe. I'm quite good at navigating the Raptora, however. I would be fine.'

'Always so brash. The sergeant would never be okay with it. _I_ would _definitely_ not be okay with it.'

'Hm. He won't listen either way.'

Bradley's shoulders slouched a little, but Fareeha hardly noticed.

'Prepare for landing, privates.' Sergeant Gracion grunted, and Fareeha felt the aircraft descending. They were a team of ten, half of them without an incredible amount of experience. It would be a valuable mission in a number of ways.

'Stay close to me if you need to.' Bradley offered, but Fareeha almost laughed.

'I should be saying that to you.'

Bradley couldn't answer with much because, honestly, he had been with Fareeha during her preliminary training in Overwatch. Every new recruit went through a number of mental and physical tests to determine where they ranked according to an Overwatch exclusive system. Said rank could be adjusted depending on mission accomplishments and the like, but the tests were used to create a base starting point rank to build upon. Fareeha had easily claimed the Platinum rank, while Bradley was still considered Gold. Fareeha's main source of weakness came in the form of psychological competence. She could command a small unit with no problem, but when it came to the finer arts of speech and communication as a whole, she sorely lacked in the area, and it's what kept her from starting as a Diamond Overwatch agent, which would have been a feat in and of itself.

"Subtle rhetoric" was what was told to her, but even then, she hardly knew what it meant. Perhaps if she mastered such a technique she would better understand Angela.

'You okay?'

'Hm?' Fareeha felt the aircraft make contact with the ground, and all seatbelts snapped off in near unison.

'You made a face.'

'I'm not making a face.'

'Well, not anymore, but you looked ridiculously sad for a moment. Maybe I didn't see it right.'

'Maybe you didn't.' Fareeha agreed.

'Move, people!' Sergeant Gracion pushed, and his unit was in China, the nightlife of the city hardly making it feel like there was no sun in the sky. It was raining, but it mattered not, for within minutes, Fareeha's team was already underground, their contact leading them into the space without a word. He simply presented the entrance, and walked away. Overwatch missions were something else entirely.

'This route should be clear already, but if you find any omnics or enemy units, don't hesitate to remove them. Lijiang Tower is an important piece of technological advancement that can benefit our cause. It can't be lost to omnics or Talon by any means. Understand?'

"Sir!"

Fareeha readied her gun, and moved through the tight space as quickly as the rest of them. Steel, metal, and loose wires pressed against her body, and the team didn't have a choice but to press forward in a single file, periodically shuffling through an even smaller opening to proceed adequately. Fareeha felt like a rat, and she couldn't say she revelled in the sensation. This was anything but glorious, but she didn't doubt Lijiang Tower's importance, and was somewhat proud she was contributing to Overwatch's success; if however minutely.

The group navigated their tiny corridors for what felt like at least half an hour, all silent and full of expectation. According to the information provided prior to starting the mission, Fareeha anticipated that they were nearly at the conjunction point that connected to the outer rim of the tower. Within minutes, they would be in enemy lines, and that's where the true challenge would begin. According to Overwatch's sources, the omnics were holding up the entire tower for unknown reasons. Overwatch suspected Talon's involvement, but it was too difficult to deduct with all certainty.

Sergeant Gracion's hand went up, and the group stopped in an instant, awaiting further orders. When no commands were issued, Fareeha herself almost said something before mechanized noises echoed through the small tunnel. They were muffled, of course, but the presence of omnics was obvious nonetheless. By the sounds of it, there were multiple units passing by the exit, which would make infiltration that much harder. The reports stated that only about a dozen or so omnics were holding the place up, but Fareeha was beginning to have her doubts based on the noises hitting against her eardrum now.

When the threat was perceived to be gone, Sergeant Gracion's hand went down, although it did so quite slowly, as though he were lost in thought.

'Sir?' Bradley asked, and the shuffling about showed everyone else's sudden apprehension. They had a medic, naturally, but they didn't have Mercy's skills, so the risk of injury should the intelligence regarding this mission be wrong was quite real.

'Overwatch's specialty is the subjugation of omnics influenced by the God Program. It's what created the organization to begin with. You're all trained for this. Remember their weak points and proceed as planned. We slowly and methodically take them out in small groups. We have the numbers; use them.'

'But what if our information is outdated? If we're outnumbered we'll be wiped out. If this stealth mission turns into a dog fight, we won't win.' Fareeha could only think of her suit. She could change the tides so easily if she was simply given the chance.

'It's a risk we'll have to take. If this mission is pushed back any further, we risk losing the base altogether. Move cautiously but with purpose. Follow my lead, privates.'

'I disagree.' Fareeha persisted. As a captain of her own unit at one time, she couldn't condone such recklessness. Perhaps she didn't comprehend the more "subtle rhetoric" of everyday conversation, but she could weigh a mission's probability of success, and she simply couldn't shake a feeling they were somehow outclassed. The sergeant's brief hesitation was all the more proof she needed. 'Dying here changes nothing. Reporting back to command and reassessing the situation could help us retake this tower without causalities.'

'Are your nerves getting the best of you, Private? Your mother feared nothing, and she was a legend because of it.'

'Sergeant!' Bradley cut in, and the group seemed to groan in unison.

'…So be it.' Fareeha relented in frustration. 'By your order, we will proceed.'

Silence, and the sergeant began opening up the secret passageway's exit. The group was presented to a well-lit room, which almost seemed like a meeting space. They huddled into a corner, and the sergeant peeked through the main door, entering a password that allowed access deeper into the tower. They were in the main sector now, and it was only a matter of time until the omnics would come into sight. According to intel, the rounds were made down to the minute, and by the way the sergeant continued to check his watch, everything seemed to be right on schedule.

'Perfect…' Sergeant Gracion mumbled, rounding another corner and hustling though the corridor with his team in tow. They made their way up a double set of stairs, getting closer to an overlook that would allow for a perfect vantage point. Two omnics were said to be posted at said location at all times, but they changed shifts every three hours. That third hour was approaching, and thus, four Overwatch agents took up positions on the platform that elevated overtop of the double staircase, while the other six prepared approximately twenty metres away from where the current guards resided. Due to the fact the omnics were likely connected in some fashion for communication, the chain of events starting within minutes determined the success of the mission. Once the four omnics projected to be taken out in this moment went down, the team had minutes to deal with the rest before they either self-destructed or called for re-enforcements.

The minutes dragged on, and all Fareeha could think about was how dangerous this mission was to begin with. Granted, other than using her own "reckless" methods, she wasn't sure how else to tackle such a closed attack. The fact they had even managed to get into the tower was a testament to Overwatch's resources, and to have the routine of the omnics down was even more impressive. How else were they supposed to reclaim the tower without any destruction caused? It all made _some_ sense, but perhaps sending privates wasn't the best way to handle matters. Sergeant Gracion _appeared_ to be in control, but something about him didn't sit right with Fareeha either.

She missed having Angela to confer with. They had gotten along so well. Or, perhaps more accurately, Fareeha had enjoyed Angela's company more than the other way around. As it was, the last time they truly talked…

Sergeant Gracion's hand went up, and Fareeha could hear the omnics coming up the stairs. She watched as the other six members made their move, and she gave Bradley a glance, seeing him nod in determination. He did the same to the other members of their squad, and within the next ten seconds, two sentry omnics began proceeding higher up the stairs. It started from there, and Fareeha had little to no time to think too deeply about anything else but what the mission had deemed the best path for success during such a fragile moment of opportunity.

She and her other three squad members dropped, and before the omnics could react appropriately, they were disabled, Fareeha and Bradley both injecting E.M.P. bullets into the sides of the sentry omnics. They went down with but a slight beeping whimper, and the other two agents haphazardly hid the bodies. Bradley gave Fareeha a small wink, but she still couldn't shake a feeling of unease. She dashed up the stairs, and went to the upper floor where the other two omnics were supposedly waiting for relief from their shift. They too were disabled, and Sergeant Gracion began poking around the computer monitors, observing the cameras and seeing the remaining omnics begin to realize that four of their brethren had been taken down. This turn of events was all still within the projected parameters, and Sergeant Gracion grinned.

'We've taken down almost half of their units without any losses on our side. Let them come. Even if they send their OR14s, they'd have to get to us first.'

It was true. And the reason the tower was being held relatively easily was _because_ of those OR14s. Normal units didn't stand a chance, and anything big enough or powerful enough to contend with the OR14s risked compromising the delicate data stored in such an important facility.

'Permission to await enemy counterattack at contesting point A, Sir?' Fareeha proposed, preferring the vantage sector of he prior location.

'Granted. Take Private Bradley with you. We'll monitor the situation from – '

The whole squad went silent as something on the computer screens blurred into the ground. The sentry omnics were strangely fairly slow to react to their fellow omnics' sudden demise, but what was witnessed now explained their lack of urgency. As if released from a hidden cage, dozens upon dozens of slicer omnics flooded the main floor of the tower, hastily making their way to the upper levels where Fareeha and her squad resided.

'Shit…!' Gracion cursed.

'I knew it.' Fareeha shook her head. The feeling she couldn't dismiss; this was precisely her worst fear. Overwatch had accumulated as much information and precautions as possible, but there was always more risk involved than projected. The omnics weren't complete imbeciles; even with the God Program acting up. In fact, it was almost as if the God Program had evolved, which would make some kind of sense, but Fareeha was no expert in such things.

'Your orders, Sergeant?' One of the female agents asked, urgency in her voice.

'They're weak, but with so many…' Bradley mumbled.

'Two persons at the top of either set of stairs. Two more at both openings above. E.M.P. them all before they can make it to us. Fareeha; you have the best shot of any of the privates, you take out the ones that break through. Move!'

Fareeha would admit, the plan was the only one that made sense given the time allotted. Slicers moved fast, and the agents didn't have a moment to refuse. Everyone took up their points, and just as they did, the horrid clacking of the slicers began to ricochet off all the dark walls nearby. Fareeha swallowed, fearing that none of them would make it out of this alive. The thought of not having another chance to speak with Angela throttled her heart more than she could comprehend. A despair filled her lungs, and a desire to live made her reckless.

'Now!' Sergeant Gracion screamed, and the E.M.P. blasts filled the air with electricity, making it almost difficult to think. The slicers dropped one after another, but more than a few managed to break through, and Fareeha had to deal with them accordingly. The counterattack was working, but the remaining variables were not in the group's favour. Fareeha could already see the issues with this formation. The guns only had so many E.M.P. shots available. The slicers were simply making way for the OR14s to break through the squad and destroy them all. This was all delaying the inevitable. No matter how this scenario was created, Fareeha could only foresee one ending, and a single glance in the sergeant's direction amplified her fears tenfold.

He knew it as well. This was a stalling tactic and nothing more.

Fareeha would die here. She would never make her mark in Overwatch. She would never live up to her mother's legendary status. She would never look into Angela's beautiful eyes again or hear her teasing, attractive voice.

'Oh, God…' Fareeha gasped, gripping at her chest. The emotions were overwhelming her, and the potential realization of what they might mean gave her immediate pause.

'Private!' Sergeant Gracion called out, but Fareeha barely heard him.

She couldn't die here. She _wouldn't_ die here. Not yet. It wasn't her time.

'Hold my position!' Fareeha yelled to her sergeant, and before he could respond, she burst from her point, dashing past Bradley and leaping down the stairs, bringing down any slicers that caught on to her presence.

'Fareeha! That's suicide!'

She didn't care. Holding formation was suicide just as well. If she could just get to her suit. If she could just…

A handful of slicers pursued, and Fareeha could only manage to take out a few while maintaining her momentum. Her legs were cut open, and she was reminded of the injuries Angela had mended. Her soft touch. Her breath on Fareeha's skin…

Fareeha's eyes filled with water, and she bit down on her lower lip, the adrenaline in her veins propelling her forward; through the pain, through enemy lines, through the claustrophobic secret passage that had started the mission. The clacking of the pursuing slicers didn't let up. They were small to begin with, so the advantage was suddenly theirs. Fareeha couldn't aim behind herself anymore, she just shot over and over again, managing to slow down her enemies. The beginning of the mission felt nostalgic. The sudden turn of events was horrifying. Fareeha felt a slicer grapple her ankle, and she fell just at the exit to the small passageway. She was swarmed by four more within seconds, and she forced herself to remain calm and aim. Just aim. Stay calm and aim.

Her mother was one of the best snipers in the world. She had given her only daughter a few pointers once. Fareeha would never forget them. Despite the frustration and bitterness, Fareeha cherished those words above all.

 _"Never lose yourself in the shot. Never hesitate. See everything for what it is, Fareeha."_

Fareeha felt a slicer's blade rip open her right cheek, tracing the cut down to her collar, but she barely blinked beyond a wince. Her mother's words saved her, and she used the rest of her E.M.P. shots to clear herself, tasting blood and feeling the gashes all over her body. Fareeha finally made it to the Overwatch aircraft, and in minutes, she was unlocking her Raptora Mark VI, equipping it in a practised motion. The remaining slicers were finally recovering enough from the random E.M.P. blasts to continue pursuing, but Fareeha clicked her helmet in place and readied her hand canon.

She rarely felt so at home as the automated voice system greeted her.

"Identification confirmed. Welcome, Fareeha Amari."

She jumped out of the aircraft and boosted high into the sky, using a single, perfectly shot rocket to eradicate the remaining slicers. Without a moment to spare, she flew over to the Lijiang Tower, and her radio was immediately intercepted by law enforcing aircrafts.

"State your business, civilian." The voice demanded, obviously agitated.

'Overwatch.' Fareeha hissed, and she navigated her suit forward, rocketing into the tower and breaking through the upper windows to where the control station was. She found her squad, half of them dead now that an OR14 had made it past their barrier.

'Get back!' Fareeha commanded, and she lined up her shot, blasting the omnics into oblivion, but also being cautious of the various computers and data storage units present. The slicers were easy enough to deal with, but the OR14 shrugged off the tentative attack with relative ease. Fareeha's group made it behind her, but the OR14 had other ideas, and charged forward.

'Scatter!' Fareeha gasped in desperation. She met the OR14 head on, grappling it and allowing it to take her outside with the sheer force of its boost. It was a suicide attack. The omnic recognized Fareeha as a threat beyond its small army's capabilities, and sought her death immediately. For a moment, Fareeha thought perhaps the omnic would succeed, its grip on her like iron. It would fall to its doom with her in tow.

However, Fareeha had one other trick up her sleeve, and she detonated a concussive blast right into the OR14's face, giving it no choice but to release her, pushing Fareeha back so that she could dash across the sky and re-enter the top of the tower. Slicers remained, but Fareeha managed them all with no more than three blasts, explosions shaking the entire floor, but leaving little in their wake activated.

'Stay here.' Fareeha uttered, and she readied her arm canon, reloading it with the last of her reserves stored in her suit. 'I will protect the innocent and complete our mission.'

Sergeant Gracion had no words to offer in contrast to his private's wishes, for that day, once the omnics had been utterly routed by a singular Overwatch agent, and Lijiang Tower was reclaimed with no further incidents, Pharah was born, and her name was to be known far and wide within Overwatch as the woman who had turned impossible odds on their head because of her masterful command of the Raptora Mark VI.

Justice would reign from above.


	19. XIX: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

Monaco. Country and microstate on the French Riviera in Western Europe.

It made sense that Widowmaker was placed at the forefront of this particular mission. Out of all the languages in the world, those that were the stubbornest to conform to the universal use of English in most social situations were the French. Widow couldn't say she hated that notion. If she could feel pride, she would, but only a shadow of such an emotion flickered in her chest. Moira's "medicine" was still doing its work, seemingly, even after the relatively long ride to her current location. She was waiting outside of an impressive building meant only for just as impressive V.I.P.s.

Widowmaker was feeling less as the hours progressed, but her instincts were razor sharp, and they told her she didn't belong in the field like this. She couldn't recall the last time she pretended to be part of regular society, let alone be so exposed. The dress Talon had selected for her was surprisingly well-fitted. It's dark purple colouring and black details only added to Widowmaker's abnormal skin tone. Her hair was even done up in a rather fancy way, her make-up applied with the perfect touch. Although she herself felt little for the end product of Talon's efforts, none would argue with the fact that she was the epitome of conventional beauty.

That being said, her silhouette in the moonlight outside of the older, grand building was enough to draw the attention of a few brave individuals. Three men, stumbling ever so slightly yet dressed to the nines, approached Widowmaker, wide grins on their faces, and the supposed most courageous of them all stepping forward to interact with the silent woman.

' _Good evening, my lady. How do you do?_ ' The man spoke in a thick French accent, his eyes suddenly widening and his composure stumbling some. His friends noticed at the same time he did, and their reactions almost made Widowmaker chuckle.

' _Problem?_ ' Widowmaker made direct eye contact, her imposing presence only adding to their hesitation.

' _No. Not at all…Er…Are you unwell?_ '

' _Why ever would you ask such a thing?_ '

' _Your…complexion is rather…unique._ '

' _So I have been told._ ' Widowmaker glanced to the other two men, her yellow eyes practically shimmering in anticipation. How easily she could kill them all in the blink of an eye. This mission didn't require her "expertise" until quite a bit later, apparently, but the bloodlust was ever present, and the drug only made things worse. ' _Was there anything else, gentlemen?_ '

The three men weren't sure how to proceed. It was almost amusing. However, Widowmaker's allure was simply overwhelming, and something like a strange skin colour was nearly acceptable she was so attractive. The "lead" man shrugged, and just as he was about to say something further, an enormous, dark-skinned hand took hold of his shoulder, and when the trio whirled to see who had decided to interrupt their play, there was almost a universal whimper at the sight of who Widowmaker now knew to be Akande Ogundimu a.k.a. Doomfist, one of the most powerful individuals in Talon's organization…perhaps the world.

'Something I can help you boys with?' Akande's voice rumbled, matching his massive, muscular size barely contained in a white suit that easily cost a grand or more.

That's all it took to disperse the unwanted attention. Widowmaker observed Doomfist closely, and admitted that she was satisfied with his presence. He commanded respect, even from her, because as a hunter, she recognized when a threat to her wellbeing was present, and Akande was certainly that. She would be forced to pull out all the stops to even stand a chance against such a monster of a man, and even then, she couldn't foresee the actual results of such a confrontation.

Akande huffed, fixing his suit a little bit before making eye contact with Widowmaker.

'Lacroix?'

Widowmaker blinked, but nodded slowly, her mind feeling sluggish. She didn't like the identification, but she couldn't explain why.

' _Yes._ '

'A small surprise those men couldn't stop themselves from speaking with you. Your beauty is only surpassed by your "skills", from what I understand.'

'Perhaps.' Widowmaker managed to say, but it took some effort.

'Ah. It would appear the information about your disposition was accurate as well. Pity.' Akande cracked his neck and then offered his arm. Widowmaker reluctantly took it, knowing it was for the sake of the mission, and entered the lit building that was constructed so very long ago with actual artistic vision.

The inside of the place was even more dazzling than the exterior. Golden light seemed to shimmer from every which way, and well-dressed workers were moving in all directions, offering their services to any who made it past the front entrance's "list" and enforcers. Men and women who clearly had more money than they knew what to do with were everywhere, and Akande sniffed at the air in seeming disgust, speaking to Widowmaker in a low tone.

'I was impressed by your performance in London. Talon could use more operatives like you. Especially given the recent lapses.'

Widowmaker wasn't really listening very closely, glancing around in an attempt to find any potential threats. It's all she knew how to do. Acting like the rich was beyond her, even if the routine echoed deep in her hollow heart. She had already released Doomfist's giant arm.

"You know you're on the open channel." A sassy voice spoke directly into Widowmaker's ear, the communication device now actively in play.

'Right on cue…' Akande confirmed smugly.

"Ask her about St. Petersburg." Sombra went on from somewhere else in the building. From what Widowmaker could ascertain, she was potentially near a bar. Her senses could pick up the smallest sounds and translate them accordingly. Drinks were being mixed. Ice was clanging against glass. Liquid was compressed out of various taps.

'Spare me the commentary. Your work in Numbani was appreciated as well. Just let me know if anything seems out of the ordinary.'

"You're making me think you don't trust him."

'I don't trust anyone.' Akande responded conclusively, and by this point, he and Widow were now in the gambling sector of the building, men and women throwing money about as though it was truly just paper with ink printed over both sides.

Doomfist brought Widowmaker to an apparently elite table, where a single omnic with rather antagonistic features resided. His red illuminators bore into the soul, and his facial structure was modified perhaps to only add to his intimidation. Naturally, such simple tricks worked little on Widowmaker. This omnic could die just like the rest of them; just like any other "living" thing.

'Maximilien.' Doomfist muttered in affirmation.

The omnic's eyes shined as he raised his head away from the gambling before him.

'Akande.'

'How's Lady Luck treating you tonight?'

'You know there's no such thing as luck. Otherwise, they might actually let us play the games.'

Widowmaker's brow went up at the comment. A curious thing for an omnic to say.

'You're looking well.' Maximilien went on, watching Akande and Widowmaker take their respective seats at the table. Doomfist continued to chat with the omnic, and Widowmaker held little interest in their conversation, to be perfectly honest. Her brain was pounding, but the nausea wave had passed for the moment, and she found relief in the absence of pain temporarily.

' _Would you like to roll the die, madame?_ ' A service omnic asked politely.

' _Thank-you._ ' Widowmaker answered. There was, at the very least, a little thrill involved in "gambling".

'And yet, plans have progressed even while you've been out of contact.' Max's voice droned on. 'War between humans and omnics seems all but inevitable…'

This piece of news perked Widowmaker's ear. War meant killing, and killing meant some notion of purpose. Her mind sparked with anticipation, but a piece of her writhed in disgust. Which was the truth? Which part of her could give any form of comfort? Widowmaker rolled the die as the omnic continued to speak in his artificial voice.

'…Thanks in no small part to your friend here.'

A chill of melancholy ran Widow's spine, and she shifted slightly in her seat in reaction. Recollecting that day brought more satisfaction and longing than anything. It was before Moira had meddled with her brain further. She knew where she stood that day. Now, she couldn't anticipate how she would cope by the hour. This new drug was actively causing discomfort, and Widowmaker's emotions that had been locked away for so long were beginning to act up in retaliation to the harsh new adjustments to her system.

All because she didn't kill that girl. All because she wanted to see her again and dance in the ballroom of death. All because she looked at her with such…despair and raw energy. It unsettled Widowmaker, and she wished not to think further on the matter. She reflected on how it felt to kill Mondatta so spectacularly, and responded to Maximilien in kind.

' _The pleasure was all mine._ ' And it was nothing but the truth.

' _My compliments._ ' The fake being attempted to connect with Widow by speaking her native tongue, but she was already engaged with her die and the activity of their table. He seemed to take the hint, and proceeded back to Akande.

'There are those in our organization who will be quite pleased to have you back, but some have concerns about whether you will keep the money flowing.'

'I will deal with them. They need to be reminded about their parts.' Doomfist uttered with finality. Everything he did was filled with conviction, and it was a trait Widowmaker was progressively beginning to connect with. Out of any other Talon member thus far, Akande was a man Widow could actively support if he so wished it. He didn't mince words; an aspect Widow more than appreciated. He wouldn't ask strange questions. He didn't care about the process, just the results. He could rise to the top of the inner circle if he so desired. At least he was willing to show his face; unlike the current "leader" of Talon.

Ultimately, Widowmaker didn't truly care so long as she was given missions that meant killing, not assignments that made her dress up in a silly gown and pretend to be an accessary meant for admiration.

'I wonder, my friend. You're not as popular as you used to be. Many were happy to see you go away.'

"Happy". When was the last time that word meant anything? The closest thing Widowmaker could associate with that word was "thrilling". When she was engaged with that little Overwatch girl, the thrill was unreal. Her abilities were beyond formidable, and Widowmaker had to do everything to manage the speed to which Tracer could move.

Widowmaker glanced to Doomfist as the employee called out.

' _Place your bets!_ '

If she attempted to kill him, what sort of "thrill" would she get from that particular confrontation? Would it be her last? Would it be worth it before Moira's ideal image of her was solidified in her brain forever? Who would survive _that_ life or death struggle?

'Not you, of course.' Akande countered, as if reading Widow's mind but reacting to Maximilien's comment.

'Of course not. We have history. And I respect a man with vision.' The omnic answered, and then the other screamed out the die roll.

' _Eleven!_ '

"Heads up, Boss. Company heading your way." Sombra's sarcastic voice drawled in the earpieces.

'Then who are they?' Doomfist turned, seeing the multitude of "intimidating" men approaching the table. Widowmaker tossed her die without a care to see how they landed, and bit down on her lower lip, anticipating a confrontation of some kind and trying not to quiver with excitement.

'As I said…many were happy to see you go.' Maximilien answered. He could have been lying, but it didn't matter anymore. Akande stood up, and Widow soon followed his lead.

'Time to go, Lacroix.'

That name again…

'It's bad luck to leave the table when you're shooting.' The omnic just had to go on.

'Watch my chips.' Widowmaker finally decided to humour him. Her mood was suddenly just a little better.

Akande was already springing into action. He was like an animal, his movements vicious and quick. His years of martial arts training were put on full display, and Widowmaker had to give the man credit: he was lethality manifested in human form. He downed two men with savage punches that literally filled the room with an intense cracking sound. Thinking that perhaps taking his "date" as hostage was a better route to navigate, a singular stray assailant went for Widow. She wanted this, and in two shifts of her body, she had her left heeled foot pinning the foolish boy's neck to the ground. He whined pathetically as Doomfist finished off the rest of the rebellious Talon agents, and Widowmaker sighed in annoyance, going so far as to checking her pocket mirror to see how little this scuffle had done to her perfectly done hair.

If these men couldn't even dishevel a single strand, then what good were they? That Tracer girl would have forced Widowmaker to tear a piece of her dress off for better mobility. That Tracer girl would have made Widowmaker's ridiculous puff her bangs were collected into completely deflate. That Tracer girl would have at least provided something of a challenge.

'Vialli's men?'

'So it would seem.' Widow answered distantly.

'Take care of the mess, Max. I'll see you in Venice.'

'Agreed. This stupidity should be stopped post haste.' Maximilien droned.

"Ooo! We goin' on another trip?"

'There are a few loose strings that I want to sever entirely. Only then can our organization proceed as planned. Let's move.'

Widow closed her eyes, a wave of pain picking at her brain, meticulously extracting the pieces of emotion that were festering due to Moira's tampering.

'Lacroix?' Akande asked, but she lifted her hand in dismissal.

'I'm fine.'

But the massive man wasn't convinced, and he simply nodded slowly.

'We'll talk later. Follow me.'

And although Widowmaker disliked being ordered in such a way, she didn't have a choice for too many reasons.

* * *

A private aircraft was boarded within the hour, Akande's connections proving to be still quite in tact. He, Sombra, and Widowmaker boarded and were on their way to Venice with no time wasted. Doomfist was initially on his phone, talking to someone about what sounded like "costumes", or some other such nonsense. Looking down at the dark purple dress Widow was still stuck in, she couldn't imagine anything more ridiculous and dysfunctional.

'Hey, Sexy.' Sombra teased, as she often did annoyingly. 'Showing a whole lotta skin there, huh? Trying to get in good with one of the head honchos here?'

Widow rolled her eyes. She could have replied by suggesting Sombra was dressed quite similarly, but she found engaging in any form of conversation with this girl to be an act of insanity. Silence was the best answer to such foolishness.

'Aw. Don't be like that. Or are you prickly because of all the nasty drugs Moiry prescribed? Quite the stuff she's loading into you. Is that why your eyes are, like, you know, deader than usual? Feelin' okay, Spider?'

The fact Sombra knew about what had happened didn't surprise Widowmaker anymore. As maddening as she was, her ability to collect information was inhuman. It was why Talon tolerated her deviances, after all. She was that valuable.

'Well, here's a fun little tidbit for you, okay? You ready? You don't look ready. Maybe I won't tell you. I'm in a good mood, in case you missed the cues. Wouldn't surprise me. But when you start guessin' right with certain things, it just begins to give a girl a bit of a high. So, you wanna know?'

'I don't.' Widowmaker submitted, hoping this woman would just leave her be for once.

'Huh. You sure? Even if it has something to do with everyone's favourite time traveler?'

Widowmaker didn't "feel" compared to most humans, but her body certainly reacted to particular things. The kill gave her what was closest to any form of real excitement. However, even the mention of Tracer, admittedly, made her chest tight with utter anticipation and a touch of…curiosity? What was this other piece that was tugging at the inner depths of Widow's brain? Was it because of that stupid question the girl had asked in complete despair? A despair Widow could only laugh at it confused her so?

"Why?"

'Oho. Looks like I hit a nerve…or what's left of it. Havin' some naughty dreams about Overwatch's poster girl these days, Spider? She _is_ pretty cute. Got up close and personal with her myself a couple days ago. Girl can dance. I actually had a pretty decent time for once in my life. I can get why you wanna do the nasty with that one. Nice ass, too. Nothing like your galactic wonder, but still nice! Heheh!'

'…I'm not interested in such things. She's also another girl. Why do you talk about such idiotic drivel?'

'You serious? You know what year it is, right? Sure, some old timers still get a little hung up on that kinda stuff, but it's all about "freedom" and "liberated feelings" and whatever. Gag. But hey, makes for a good time here and there. I mean, if people are hooking up with omnics, which is _crazy_ if you ask me, what's wrong with a little girl on girl or guy on guy fun, you know what I'm saying? At least they're human.'

Widowmaker felt a headache coming. She always did when tolerating Sombra's onslaught of one-sided dialogues, but she was already in a compromised state, and this "hacker" was doing anything but helping.

'Again, I'm not interested.'

'Right, right. "You don't feel". That's your super catchy tagline. Kind of misleading, since you obviously do, but memorable. Actually, scratch that, I took a deep dive look into what Moiry gave you, and you're gonna be a potato soon enough. She's smart and all, but I think she's using you as a guinea pig for something bigger Talon's got planned. Omnics are strong, no doubt, but humans have their uses, too, you know? What if you could take the soulless, unquestioning omnics for war and fuse them with the most capable humans? Nice. Very nice. "Super soldiers" without emotion? Gabe and Jack but even better? I'm getting wet! Hahah!'

'You're insane…' Widowmaker hissed, but Sombra's words agitated her nonetheless.

'Cute. _You_ calling _me_ insane. Real cute.'

'Enough.' Akande finally lowered his phone, smoothly sliding it into his pocket. 'Your ability to extract information impresses me still, Sombra. If you weren't such a loose cannon, I would invite you to the inner circle myself.'

'Flattery will get you everywhere, big boy.'

'I'd rather not play with your particular kind of fire.'

'Really? Your loss.'

Akande shifted in his seat, the belt strapping him safely in looking as though it could snap his muscular build was stressing it so.

'That being said, I'm curious about what you were discussing with our own Lacroix here.'

'Oh? The girl on girl stuff? Sorry, big guy, but no free show for you. Spider doesn't like me enough to – '

'No, Sombra. You know what I am referring to.'

'…The guy on guy action?'

Akande sighed deeply, but he kept his composure, which was quite the feat, Widowmaker knew.

'What do you know about Dr. O'Deorain's new experiments? She is attempting to nullify emotion completely in humans, is she not?'

'Seems that way.'

'And Lacroix is her test subject?'

'Also seems that way.'

'Talon is willing to dispose of her now? They must be confident about our doctor's progress. Intriguing. But also a waste.'

'Not really. Spider's emotions were always a little special. It's why she's the perfect candidate to get this new drug to work on. If they win her over, they can pretty well get anybody.'

Akande perked up, and Widowmaker knew she should've been more concerned about what was being discussed, but all she could think about was the upcoming kill that Doomfist had alluded to as they had made their way to their current aircraft and…another chance to fight Tracer. Perhaps this "drug" that was being discussed was already nearing its final phase. Widowmaker progressively didn't care. The waves ebbed and flowed.

'Her skill will be missed, I'm sure.'

'Maybe. But Talon's growing by the hour with all the crazy stuff happening in the world. I'm guessing they're just going to get a replacement…or make another one.'

'True. However, I am willing to pay you a reasonable sum to procure a counter drug that will slow or nullify the effects of Dr. O'Deorain's.'

Widowmaker's ears tingled, and even she looked up from the ground and at Akande.

'I know talent when I see it. Artificially enhanced talent is even more frightening. You killed Mondatta _while_ dealing with one of Overwatch's best, did you not? Having personally confronted her myself recently, I can appreciate the sort of skill that required. Talon may be willing to part ways with you, but I am not. I'll use you myself. It's what you want, isn't it? I'll give you targets to kill. I'll give you a reason to live. I believe in only strength, and you have that, Lacroix. Join my sector of Talon, and I promise only fulfillment in what's left of your instinctual desires.'

There was silence following Akande's grand statement, only the powerful hum of the aircraft's engines filling the air. With Sombra present, naturally, the silence didn't last.

'Is this like a confession of love or something?'

'It is not.' Doomfist answered tolerably. 'Before I was imprisoned, Talon's purpose was to build a better, stronger humanity through conflict. Survival of the fittest. It's what I've always lived by. Unfortunately, there are those in Talon who no longer hold such values. Greed has corrupted the body, forming a cancerous reaction rippling through the core. I will extract this cancer myself, and with your help, "Widowmaker", my ambitions will be even more possible.'

Widowmaker hardly knew the meaning of ambition anymore, but she shrugged, knowing it was a better route than the one Moira had planned. Akande and herself were similar enough, and she could follow him much more easily than the voice that currently ruled Talon.

'So be it.'

'Heheh. Sounds fun. But you must have an awful lot of money ready for me if you think I'm going to help out _and_ keep my mouth shut about this little "rebellion".'

Akande grinned, his confidence in himself ever present.

'I do. And it's not a rebellion; it's a return to form.'

'Whatever you wanna call it. Just show me a number I like.'

Widowmaker turned to the window, the darkness of the outside sky high above the clouds all encompassing. She could only think about the upcoming kill. The politics and ideals surrounding it mattered little to her. For as long as she could remember, that's how it has always been. But recent events were changing the comfort of that lifestyle, and Widowmaker couldn't be sure what it would all mean by the end. The pain in her thoughts was as natural as breathing. But what if that pain went away? What if she became just a little closer to the woman she had forgotten before joining Talon?

Widowmaker didn't feel fear. Yet, she couldn't deny the word crossed her mind in that moment.


	20. XX: Mercy

Mercy

"Dr. Ziegler, you're needed in the medical wing immediately. Sergeant Gracion's unit has returned from their mission and they require first aid."

Angela's eyes were already open. It was as if she innately knew this was coming. She simply awoke, stirring in the night all the while, and stared at her ceiling until, as if expectantly, Athena's calm voice notified her of her sudden need as one of the most brilliant doctors in the world.

'I'll be right there, Athena. Thank-you.'

She didn't want to admit it, but a knot filled her throat instantly as Angela put on some tight, black pants and slipped a lab coat over her loose t-shirt. Fareeha had been part of Sergeant Gracion's unit. The mission had been downplayed in danger, but Angela knew better. It all sounded too simple for a mostly green skillset to be dispatched. She was concerned; more than she had been in quite some time, and it was a piece of truth Angela had difficulty believing.

Was the unit okay? Was Fareeha herself okay?

Angela checked her phone, and quickly scanned the mission's update according to Sergeant Gracion. Five Fatalities. One severely wounded. No names. No further details. Who had been lost? Who was severely wounded? Was Fareeha okay?

Angela shook her head. What was wrong with her? Playing favourites wasn't her job, but why couldn't she get Ana's daughter off her mind? It wasn't fair to anyone else in the unit. Angela actively reconfigured her thought pattern.

Fortunately, the moment Dr. Ziegler stepped out of her room, a cart was waiting for her with an Overwatch grunt she didn't recognize ready to drive her where she was needed. Small pleasantries were exchanged, and soon enough, Angela was on her way, bypassing night guards and the like. Overwatch Gibraltar was a fairly large base, but for this very reason, Angela's quarters were only a minute or two away from the medical wing, where her personal lab extended off of.

'You have my thanks.' Angela nodded to her driver, and picked up the pace, her footwear clacking against the flooring as she let herself into the wing, her I.D. allowing her access to nearly every sector of this particular Overwatch base without issue.

She could smell the blood the moment she entered, and Gracion's unit, or what was left of it, stood about a single individual on a bed, the person's armoured suit still equipped making for an awkward display. Among the unit was Jack Morrison himself, his scarred face and cold eyes showing only a hint of concern…which was enough to bring alarm to Angela beyond her immediate realization of who lay upon the bed.

'The armour is caked on because of the blood. Removing it could tear the wounds open. I wanted your expertise before proceeding.' Jack stated clearly, his rank as second-in-command keeping all the other troops silent beyond the worried glances and shame. Bradley, in particular, was clearly devastated, staying overly close to Fareeha and speaking to her in their native tongue.

'I need space.' Angela declared, embarrassed by how much relief she felt on top of the sadness that almost half a dozen Overwatch agents had been lost.

The unit dispersed, Jack even stepping back, but Bradley remained, hardly budging, which frustrated Angela.

'Please, Bradley.' She repeated the need calmly, and he finally did as was asked.

Angela looked down at Fareeha, seeing the young woman's eyes just barely cracking open.

'Angela…' Fareeha managed, and her voice sent a shock through Angela's system. 'Sorry…' She uttered, and the doctor couldn't help but bite her lip, trying not to tear up.

'It will be fine, Fareeha.' Angela attempted to remain distant, but emotion tugged at her intonation, and she doubted Jack didn't notice as much. A protectiveness for this individual had latched onto Angela's very being. She connected Fareeha's survival to an old, painful memory. It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else could she not stop herself from caring so?

'The rest of you come with me if you need minor first aid. Leave Dr. Ziegler to her work.' Jack dictated, and Angela wondered if he did so out of respect for her privacy, or because of something else. Either way, the room was cleared fairly quickly, despite Bradley's obvious reluctance, and once the door leading out to other medical services was closed, Angela exhaled shakily, going to the pharmaceutical tools and medicines available to begin the process of stripping Fareeha's suit off of her damaged body.

'On a scale from one to ten, how do you feel?' Angela asked, her palms heating up knowing Fareeha was watching her.

'One…being bad?'

'Yes.'

'…Four.'

'Truly?'

'Yes.'

'You're stubborn. I would certainly say at least a three or two. You're barely conscious. You should rest. I will watch over you.'

'I know…but…' Fareeha's voice cracked.

'But what?' Angela sighed, looking down at the young Egyptian's dark eyes.

'…I don't want to lose you again.'

'P-Pardon?' Angela stuttered, hearing exactly what Fareeha had said but dismissing it readily. She almost forgot to begin applying the necessary salve upon the woman's face to help ease the need to unequip her Raptora suit.

'I…couldn't stop thinking about you when I was fighting. I…think – '

'I think you're delusional right now.' Angela's face felt fuzzy, and she blinked rapidly, the heat in her cheeks rising.

' – you're beautiful…'

Angela's hands froze, and she couldn't meet Fareeha's eyes. She had been called beautiful before; many times, in fact. At the multitude of conferences and conventions she had attended in her past, she was approached almost every time. She never had a date, and therefore, the single (and even the not so single) men saw Dr. Ziegler as an opportunity that shouldn't go to waste. They always commented on her aesthetic appearance and her intellect. However, the conversation rarely moved beyond that, and when it did, and when Angela had even allowed a select few the chance to treat her to a drink and further discussion, she never felt the desire to proceed in the courtship. Angela Ziegler had always been married to her work and her passion to improve the quality of life for mankind. She had little to no experience with men intimately. As a child, of course, she had dabbled in silly kissing games and the like, but the moment she could actively pursue her academic passion, she was untouchable, and had remained as such well into her late thirties.

But now, at thirty-seven years old, and due to another woman's words, no less, she felt her heart skip at the compliment. Like everything about Fareeha, it was sincere and untainted by ulterior motives. Perhaps that's why Angela reacted so. She knew Fareeha meant what she said with all of her being. She thought about Angela in a life or death situation and…she thought she was beautiful.

'I…appreciate that, Fareeha. Although, I just woke up, so, I suppose you truly are seeing things through a skewed vision of delirium due to the pain. We'll remedy that hastily.'

'It's funny…' Fareeha's lips curled into a small grin attractively despite her battered appearance. 'Because, right now, I don't think…I've ever thought you were more beautiful…'

Angela sucked in some air shakily, turning away from Fareeha for a moment to gather herself. Again, her chest pulsated, and she couldn't explain why adequately. When she finally had the courage to face her patient again, she found Fareeha's eyes closed, exhaustion having overtaken her. Angela could exhale now, and she shook her head, regaining her focus.

'Evidently you say some outrageous things when you're in a state of shock and near unconsciousness, hm, Fareeha? I've dealt with such mannerisms before. It can be quite sad or utterly comedic. I will be sure to tease you about this once I have you back in shape. It will be rather fun, I imagine.'

Angela went on, convincing herself that her own rationale was truth. She worked diligently upon Fareeha in peace from that moment on, the process flying by due to her own thoughts spiraling through a mixer of analytical detailing and reasoning. She felt like a little girl again. She felt like she had been told she was pretty by a boy for the first time all over again. She felt as though she was being truly acknowledged, despite all her awards and accomplishments, authentically again. It was foolishness, Angela knew, yet she couldn't deny, at the very least, that she cared about Fareeha, quite obviously, to some extent. They had sincerely bonded, despite Angela attempting to downplay the connection she felt, and although Angela wished to keep anyone and everyone at an arm's length after her failure in the past, Fareeha's unconscious presence only brought that very failure to the forefront of Angela's brain, and she couldn't keep the other woman back enough.

The Raptora armour was damaged, but not beyond repair. It lay in its various pieces on a table nearby, and Angela continued to peel Fareeha out of her Overwatch uniform until she was in nothing but her black sports bra and matching boy shorts underwear. Her body was bruised and cut in more places than Angela would have liked, but she would ultimately be fine, if not without a few minor scars that would hardly be visible after Angela was done with her. What concerned Angela, however, was the deep gash on Fareeha's face, starting at her cheek and tracing down to her collar. With the medical advancements Angela herself had contributed to, she could reduce the amount of scarring that would remain, but it was an expensive procedure, and she wasn't sure if such methods would be seen as frivolous when viewed through the lenses of Overwatch's budget that no longer included U.N. support.

'I'll do what I can, in any case.' Angela told herself, knowing that, even without the new processes available for skin reconstruction, she herself could use her portable vial of Caduceus healing solution to at least assist with the skin's natural reconstructive abilities when all was said and done.

It was approximately two hours' worth of work, at the end of the entire procedure, but once bandaged and cleaned, Fareeha looked infinitely better than she did upon Angela first stepping into the intensive care centre. Angela leaned back in her chair and stared at the damp cloths she had used to wipe up all the blood. Fareeha's body was firm and toned, her abdomen stronger than most of the males' Angela had worked on. Her legs were obviously powerful, shaping her hips and backside pleasingly. Her arms were tight, not without just enough muscle, and her upper body retained a "feminine" allure despite its fitness as well. How did this woman not have a significant other? She was practically a model. She claimed to be more passionate about serving justice, but still; it was baffling.

Angela touched Fareeha's pretty, raven-coloured hair, stroking her bangs to the side and taking in the woman's features. She generally held a rather stern visage, but asleep, there was a softness to her that Angela almost felt blessed to see when so many never would. Would she remember what she said before passing out? It felt so long ago already. It didn't feel real.

'You are truly an interesting individual, Fareeha Amari…' Angela giggled, the worst of her worry over.

The door leading into Angela's space slid open abruptly, and the doctor jerked back, a wave of panic pulsating in her veins. She had unknowingly stayed quite close to Fareeha as she began playing with her hair, and she knew it was as unprofessional as one could be, given the circumstances.

'How is my daughter?' Ana asked sternly. She likely didn't catch Angela's compromising situation due to the doctor reacting so quickly, but she couldn't be sure.

'Vital signs are stable. Her physical condition is sound. Her Raptora suit…will need repairs before going into the field again.'

Ana nodded slowly, getting close enough to look down at her child. Even with the older woman's long, grey hair practically concealing half her face, Angela could see the worry in the mother's eyes. It was only natural. Ana was against Fareeha participating in Overwatch's war to begin with. Would this be the finale? Would the legendary sniper remove Fareeha's chance to rise in the ranks right here and now?

'She's reckless.'

'Perhaps…but she's also courageous. Must be in her blood.' Angela commented slyly, and Ana moved to a computer, signing in under her profile and bringing up a file, projecting it before herself and Angela.

'Did you read this yet?'

'No. I just finished with her. It was a delicate procedure. I needed to ensure that she would be okay.'

'It's Sergeant Gracion's report. She abandoned her unit to retrieve her suit. She then crashed through the tower and used her rockets within. Wasn't the point to reduce the damage done to the facility? Reckless.' Ana repeated, sighing loudly.

Angela took a moment to review the document before proceeding. With all the studying she had done in her life, it took her little time to consume such a simply worded piece.

'She saved her unit, Ana. If she hadn't acted, they could have all been lost. Sergeant Gracion is doing little else than praising her. He's recommending she be promoted to class Diamond immediately.'

'I understand that, Angela, but it doesn't negate the fact she could have…' Ana trailed off, looking down at her daughter once more. Angela paused, but then touched the other woman's shoulder gently, her voice softening.

'You have every right to be concerned, but she is a grown woman who has chosen her path. Unfortunately…or, perhaps, fortunately, she has chosen the same one you did: to fight for justice no matter the cost. There is no going back for her. She is hastily becoming an asset to our forces. Her command of the Raptora Mark VI is further proof of this. Only she could have pulled off such a gamble, and because of her abilities, the entire unit wasn't lost, and the mission was a success.'

Ana didn't respond, her lips tight, and her body as still as could be. Thus, Angela went on.

'What would you have done if we lost her, Ana?'

'…Be careful, Dr. Ziegler.'

'I will not.' Angela answered quickly, a sense of responsibility and protectiveness overcoming her. 'She's your daughter. She deserves to know you're alive. I shall not tell her; you will.'

'How I handle my family is _my_ business.'

'You have a second chance. You shouldn't squander such an opportunity.'

'It's for her own good.'

'You're both so unbearably stubborn at times.'

Ana turned to Angela then, a glimmer in her knowing eye. The look immediately made Angela somewhat uncomfortable.

'What is Fareeha to you, Angela? You haven't known her long, yet I cannot help but gather the impression that there is more than a simple acquaintanceship between you both.'

Angela swallowed, gathering her thoughts proactively in order to respond with the calmness she needed.

'I…would consider her a friend. Although our time together was short, I find myself valuing her as a person. Perhaps it isn't fair of me, but that is the truth.'

Ana smiled, that mischievous grin ever present now.

'Heh. Good taste.'

'I would like to believe so…'

'It's rare to see you squeamish, Angela. Is there something else?'

Angela sucked in some air, having thought she hid the memories teasing her now more than ever.

 _I couldn't stop thinking of you…_

… _I think you're beautiful…_

'You know something of my past.' Angela answered, playing her hand safe. 'She reminds me of what could've been, I suppose.'

Ana's grin instantly disappeared. She breathed out deeply, facing her sleeping daughter anew.

'I see. I'm sorry for prying.'

'Do not worry. We all have our ghosts, yes?'

'…Of course.'

Ana touched Fareeha's hair then, showing an incredible amount of affection in the motion. She paused, and then withdrew, going to the door.

'I will consider what you have said, Angela. Forgive my stubbornness. It is a difficult thing considering the way her and I parted.'

'She will understand, Ana. She will.'

Ana paused at the door, and then allowed herself out, silently moving as her skills allowed her to. Angela remained, and as she turned off the various electronics, she knew she should summon a guard to look after Fareeha as she slept. It was late, and Jack likely already had the rest of the unit taken care of and off to their quarters. Angela was always on call, and thus, sleep – good sleep found in her own bed – was imperative. She prepared her phone to call down whomever was available on the night shift, but hesitated at the number.

Angela looked to where Fareeha lay, the taller woman's breaths coming in steady, the blanket atop her partially clothed form rising and falling steadily. She was fine. Angela didn't need to remain. It would be strange if she did. Call a guard. Be professional. No favourites allowed.

And yet, Angela found herself sitting in a rolling chair, bringing it close to Fareeha's bed, and resting her head next to the girl's body, wrapping her arms under her face like a pillow. She was asleep in seconds, capable of such rest because she was exactly where she wanted to be.

* * *

… _gie…_

 _...ngie…_

… _Angie…!_

 _I can't…_

… _I can't…_

… _see you…!_

* * *

Angela shot up, one side of her face pulsating and her right arm numb. She pushed some hair from her mouth, and glanced around fervently, unsure of where she was for a few seconds.

'Good morning.' A smooth voice said quietly, and Angela found Fareeha sitting up in her bed, her body propped up by some pillows and the angle of the resting area. Angela felt her blood move to her face, but she controlled the embarrassment, collecting herself quickly. The Egyptian seemed a little tentative with her gaze, and Angela could only imagine why. She too wasn't sure how to exactly speak with this woman now.

'How do you feel?' Angela asked automatically, still adjusting her hair and posture.

'Better…thanks to you, I assume.'

'An expert's touch was required. Your armour was caked to various parts of your skin, and the potential scarring was troubling. I managed to reduce all signs of extended damage, however.'

Fareeha touched her own face, tracing where her deepest cut had been. The bandage over the wound prevented her from making direct contact, and the woman nodded subtly.

'Thank-you…again.'

Angela smiled, giggling a little. Something about this girl brought her sincere joy and comfort.

'Is this going to be a recurring scenario, Fareeha? You risk your life to save others and I take care of you afterward? Not a healthy lifestyle, one would argue.'

'I know…' Fareeha mumbled sheepishly, obviously a little ashamed. Angela thought of Ana, and followed up her critique with gentility.

'You're not unlike a real hero these days, are you? Saved what remained of your unit and completed the mission during impossible odds? A most impressive display, I would imagine.'

A grin tugged at the corners of Fareeha's mouth, and she met Angela's eyes, her much darker ones beautiful in the way they filled her determined gaze.

'It was reckless. I know. I just…didn't know what else to do.'

'You should speak with Lena when she gets back. She'll tell you all about how recklessness and heroism go hand in hand, I'm sure. One might say the word "reckless" and the word "bravery" are interchangeable in some cases. It all comes down to ability, and you proved yourself yesterday.'

'Thanks.' Fareeha still sounded sombre, but not nearly as shy as Angela might anticipate based on what she had said before passing out. In fact, according to Angela's evaluation, it was quite possible Fareeha didn't even recall the words that hung heavy in Angela's mind even now. Nonetheless, the curious doctor had only one way of setting her mind at ease, and she wished to do so for her own sake.

'Do you recollect much of what happened upon the mission's completion, Fareeha?'

'Hm?' Fareeha's brow went up, her black bangs trickling down the side of her strong face. 'Not really. I think I passed out, or was on the brink of passing out, shortly after handling the OR14. I destroyed the rest of the omnics, but I was working in autopilot until I knew my team was safe. Beyond that…I could only tell you bits and pieces of temporary consciousness. I think I remember seeing you briefly, but that could've been a dream.' Fareeha caught herself, shutting her mouth quickly but unable to take back what she had said. Instead, she attempted to clarify.

'That is…there's been a lot on my mind recently. My life has changed dramatically, and you've been a part of that change from the beginning, you know?'

'I do.' Angela agreed softly. So, it was somewhat clear that Fareeha had no idea what she had said prior to falling asleep in her current bed. All the better. That was a particularly difficult situation to handle. Angela felt a little more at ease, but she also felt…agitated? Why? What could she do about this sudden irritation in her chest?

'That being said,' Fareeha continued, turning away from Angela shyly, it would appear. 'I…I am glad to see you. It feels like it's been a while.'

The itch dissipated immediately, and Angela giggled.

'I would have to agree with that.' Angela answered simply, and Fareeha turned, her eyes shimmering attractively. Angela didn't realize she was smiling until she took personal note of it. 'There has been quite a bit to do since we arrived. Your basic training and rank measuring needed to be completed…and now re-evaluated.'

'Oh…' Fareeha twisted her jaw.

'In a good way, Fareeha. Your accomplishments are being recognized.'

'Oh!' The other girl repeated, elated, of course.

'Yes. Yes. I reviewed the reports myself, and I wouldn't be shocked if your rank went up. Your responsibilities and consideration for leading your own missions will certainly be presented before Winston, Jack, and the rest of Overwatch's leaders.'

'I see.' Fareeha was glowing, but it was also cute how she tried to restrain herself.

'Your mother would be very proud.' Angela couldn't help herself, and Fareeha's shoulders straightened.

'You think?'

'Yes.' Angela shuffled in just a little closer. ' _I'm_ very proud.'

'T-thank-you.'

There was a small pause between the two women, and Angela could feel something inside of her shifting. She only saw Fareeha as a sister figure, correct? That's what her original diagnosis was, after all. Thus, if that was the case, why was she so…uncomfortable emotionally? This was a new notion, and the doctor disliked anything she couldn't evaluate properly. Her eyes continued to take Fareeha in carefully and attentively. She was performing mental photographs without intending to.

Angela's phone rang, startling both girls, and she fumbled with the device before answering.

'Dr. Ziegler.'

"Angela. How's Fareeha?"

'Up and well.'

"Good. She's fine, Bradley. Now, leave me alone."

It was Jack. He was calling for Bradley, the young man who was obviously romantically interested in Fareeha. The itch returned. The agitation festered.

'Do you need me?'

"Not yet. Take a second, if you must. But the mission to Russia is underway. The moment Winston returns, we'll be formulating a conclusive plan. You might need to be in the field for this fight. It's that out of control. Even Russia is struggling, and if they lose, the rest of the world doesn't stand a chance. We contain this now. Winston's report is all we need. I'll give you more details later."

'Understood.'

Bradley's voice was heard in the background, and Angela's grip on the phone tightened.

"No. She needs her rest. You won't be visiting her now." Jack spoke away from the speaker with agitation. "Sorry, Angela. I'll discuss more with you later. Bye."

'Goodbye, Jack.'

'Everything okay?' Fareeha asked, her hands neatly in front of her. She was such an imposing, strong woman, yet she relaxed so before Angela, displaying a softer, ginger side. Could she act in such a way with Bradley? Would she if she let him in? Would she hold his hand? Feel his long, black hair? Kiss him? Make love to him?

'Angela?'

'Fine. Yes. Everything is fine.' Angela answered, frustration building for whatever God-forsaken reason.

Would he listen to her worries? Would he treat her right? Would he understand her needs?

'Your face is…a little red, Angela.'

'It could be a cold. Perhaps. Yes. Perhaps that's precisely what it is.' Angela met Fareeha's eyes and turned away, her chest hurting. What on earth was wrong with her? She needed to make a graceful exit. She needed air. But she didn't want to leave Fareeha alone; especially when she appeared to be so vulnerable.

'I better return to my quarters for the moment. A rather large mission is approaching, and I may be needed. There is a call button on your bed. Please use it should you need anything. Breakfast will be brought to you soon. I…I will speak with you later.'

Angela turned, moving toward the door, almost tripping over her feet. This wasn't like her. This wasn't her at all. She was almost forty years old. What on earth was her mind and body doing at a time like this?

'Angela!' Fareeha called out suddenly, and a chill made the doctor shiver.

'Yes…?'

'Um…if it is alright with you…And I hope I am not imposing…but when I am able, might I…er…treat you to a drink…A-as thank-you for treating me so well in my time of need?'

Angela hated it. She hated the warm sensation that consumed her heart. This wasn't correct whatsoever. She had blocked herself from such relations for so long. Her hands were outstretched, preventing anything beyond acquaintanceship to belong in her life. It was safer. It didn't hurt. She didn't want to experience that pain ever, ever again. And yet…and yet…

'I would like that very much. Yes.'


	21. XXI: Tracer

Tracer

Club Se7en was absolutely exploding with sound, lights, and people. Lena could barely move without rubbing shoulders with other humans and omnics alike. Lucio himself wasn't on the stage yet, but whoever was performing fulfilled their role wonderfully, their electric sounds booming through the plethora of speakers and literally vibrating the floor and Lena herself. It was impossible to hear anyone or anything but the music clearly unless one yelled directly into another's ear. If Sombra wanted to get away, it would be simply a matter of time, but every chance Lena looked back to see if the girl was still with her or not, she was, her dramatic make-up glowing in the darkness when the montage of lights flickering about weren't hitting her directly.

Perhaps the Talon agent truly only wanted to have fun. It seemed overly farfetched, but her story was seeming more and more likely as time went on. Before they had entered the club, tickets had to be presented at the door, and upon being granted entrance, the last verbal exchange Lena and Sombra had was when the hacker nonchalantly exposed how she had obtained her own ticket.

"Made and printed myself about four hours ago. Neat, huh?" Sombra had bragged, and Lena could only roll her eyes.

Everywhere one looked, people and omnics were dancing or simply yelling/conversing within the stadium. Various levels made for a diverse range of options, with stairs leading up to another area that housed yet a secondary bar, chairs, and platforms where servers and bouncers patrolled regularly. It was good to see, to be perfectly honest, but it seemed as though everyone present was truly attempting to enjoy themselves to the maximum. Smiles were aplenty, with humans dancing with humans, omnics dancing with omnics, and humans dancing with omnics. It made Lena fill with joy and excitement, anticipating what the world could be like if she succeeded in Overwatch's mission. It also made Lena wonder how someone like Widowmaker would react to such a scene? Was she even capable of feeling what Lena felt? And if not, how tragic was that? It made the young Overwatch agent even more anxious to confront her again.

Lena met Sombra's gaze and nodded toward the bar. She wanted a drink, and the other girl agreed with a quick snap of her neck. They managed to muscle their way to the counter after some time, and once Lena and "Oli" had shots in their hands, they clinked their glasses together and downed the beverage in a single gulp. Lena immediately ordered more, and Sombra kept pace without batting an eye. After a few rounds, Lena felt the alcohol working its way through her system pleasantly. She slapped her cheeks giddily and knew the buzz was kicking in just enough to allow her a good time, but not enough to hinder her abilities. She had to monitor Sombra still, after all.

'Fancy a dance, Luv?' Lena yanked at Sombra, and the Hispanic laughed.

'Bring it, Girlie!'

It was strange, because Sombra was, essentially, the enemy, but there was something wild and free about her that didn't place her directly in Lena's "bad guy" file. Widowmaker was the same but different as well. The more Lena learned about _her_ , the more she wanted to see her again and help somehow. She was a victim, and her life was being abused at the hands of Talon. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _right_.

'Is that how you're gonna dance? Hahah!'

'Can't keep up?' Lena utilized her time control to manipulate her body in an even more dramatic fashion, and Sombra just kept giggling, her own moves rather stylish and contained, but still rhythmic and quite adorable, if Lena was going to be completely honest with herself.

The girls must've been quite the pair, for they seemed to generate a small party of onlookers, their contrasting chemistry drawing a crowd perhaps even unconsciously. Lena's dance was something only she could possibly pull off, the lights and sounds adding to the way she seemingly teleported her body's actions. Sombra's sense of the beat was something to behold as well, and her unconventional take on the blistering, electronic songs and the hard bass drops that filtered through the tracks was nearly hypnotizing.

Inevitably, perhaps, although Lena rarely thought she had any form of attractiveness to the opposite sex, a few individuals attempted to do more than simply dance nearby, like many currently did. A pair of hands wrapped around Lena's torso, and a body pressed up against her back, rubbing into her closely. She could tell it was likely a male's, and although the act itself didn't bother her excessively, she couldn't say she favoured the assumption that she wanted to be touched by a total stranger either. She moved forward a bit actively, subtly trying to show her disinterest, but her "partner" was persistent, and the hands returned, suddenly a little more daring, to Lena's annoyance now. They groped her stomach, navigating upward until they nudged her chronal accelerator, pausing at the unexpected hardness when the coveted soft sensation was anticipated.

That was enough for Lena. Her chronal accelerator was literally her lifeline, and nobody touched it without permission. She stopped and turned, making eye-contact with the (admittedly) decent looking young man. He had long, messy blonde hair, from what Lena could see, and when the lights flashed over his face, she could catch a glimpse of a square jaw with some bristle that charmed more than didn't. Nonetheless, Lena furrowed her brow and shook her head.

'Not interested, Mate. Sorry.' She said sternly, but he obviously couldn't hear her, or perhaps couldn't even see properly, because he moved in again, this time taking Lena by the waist and shifting his leg between her own.

'You're cute, babe!' He mumbled maybe, but Lena couldn't be sure. Her fist clenched, her temper flaring, and just as she was about to get a little more forceful, somebody else grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the mismatch, and bringing her in close.

'Back off, Scrub!' Sombra's voice practically entered into Lena's ear, and before she could say "thanks", her mouth was occupied by the other girl's without warning. It took a second in Lena's buzzed state, but she understood what was happening in another. Sombra was kissing her, and not just with a peck, but full-on, lips wide and locked, tongue deep, and aggressive as anything else, making out with Lena in the middle of Club Se7en with a small entourage of others witnessing the display of affection. Small whistles, cheers, and encouragement sounded, and Lena simply went with it, emotions and needs spiraling out of her control until she was gripping Sombra's face and grinding into her with her body, their chests touching and legs entangled as they continued to move somewhat to the music.

It was a reminder as to why Lena liked girls more to begin with. She could taste something like blackberry on Sombra's lips, and the softness of the other woman's mouth was just too elating. She smelled good. Her hair was silky smooth, and her curves were slender as well as pleasing the more Lena allowed her own touch to explore.

In the moment, with the intense music continuing and others utilizing the lack of light and recklessness in the air, Lena imagined what it would be like to show Widowmaker a similarly good time. Her beauty was hard to ignore, without a doubt, and the fact her life was being thrown away so selfishly made Lena even more adamant about reminding the woman what it meant to be alive and to feel affection for someone.

Sombra's mouth opened, and she nibbled on Lena's bottom lip, backing away finally and giggling in her mischievous way.

'Heheh. Looks like someone's feelin' a little frustrated these days, huh? You're a butt girl, I take it? Because you were definitely sizing me up there. Satisfied?'

'You started it, Luv. I was just finishing it.'

'True enough. But if you think I have somethin' worth groping, you haven't seen our own Widowmaker close enough to know that she's got one of the best _derriere's_ out there.'

Lena tried to act disinterested as she kept dancing, her and Sombra closer than before, their faces mere inches apart and their bodies still interacting seductively to any who had the pleasure of noticing them in the enormous crowd, but the hacker was clever, and clearly gave attention to even the smallest details.

'I'll send you her location here and there if you want a rematch. She's gonna be busy soon, by the looks of things. Might be worth a peek, yeah?'

'Why would you…?'

'Meh. Because it's interesting? Because you obviously got the hots for her? Because you're some kinda superhero that wants to save our poor little spider? Because focusing on her makes it easier to forget about other red-headed chicks? Same as dancing with me and whatever? You tell me.'

'I'm not…' Lena's eye twitched, but she recovered, not allowing Sombra to take the upper hand. 'Fine by me, Luv. I take her out and you guys are down one of your best; works for me, you know?'

'Oh, I know.' Sombra laughed, but Lena wouldn't let her have the last one, and she turned her head, kissing Sombra's neck and sucking on her skin. The hacker actually let out a small groan, the barrage of words she apparently always had ready ceased for but a moment as Lena worked her magic. She knew how to pleasure girls better than most guys could, and even Sombra was suspect to the right amount of sexual force.

'Jesus…' Sombra sighed, grabbing at Lena's backside and squeezing. 'Not bad, Girlie. Not bad at all…'

Suddenly, the music stopped, and the lights flashed about before redirecting their focus upon the stage. The D.J. who had been running the show bowed down, and the cheers erupted uncontrollably as what sounded like some sort of theme song exploded out of the speakers.

'Here's our guy…' Sombra whispered into Lena's ears, and the Overwatch agent turned, her head a little light, but the prominently green ambiance cascading over a figure who practically leapt onto the scene. The cheering became even more insane; humans _and_ omnics losing their collective minds.

'Hope you're ready for some Lucy-o-o!' The celebrity screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing between all the walls and into the hearts of everyone who had joined him. Lena could barely make out the details, but his impressive hair was swaying within the flashing lights, his hand in the air and various illuminations from his own outfit beaming through the crowd.

It was deafening how loud the audience supported the artist, and even Lena was whistling, pumping her fist into the air. This man was exactly what Overwatch was fighting for. She felt energized and ready to converse with him the moment the concert was over. She was happy Winston sent her on such a mission. Her pride and ambition meshed perfectly with the persona that swayed the masses in such a positive fashion. The energy in the massive club could hardly be contained.

'Brilliant!' Lena hollered, and she heard Sombra laugh next to her, not nearly as enthusiastic, of course.

'Thank-you for joining me, everyone! This concert is part of my grand Synaesthesia Auditiva tour, and it's because of support like this that anything is possible!'

'Oi. He's just a bundle of joy, ain't he?' Sombra muttered, but her negativity couldn't be heard, because the response continued to drown out everything else.

'Any and all proceeds raised because of this tour are going directly to the "WeR1" foundation that continues to assist with relief and stabilization around the world! Because of the Omnic War, millions of lives are still in shambles, and I will do everything in my power to help anyone and everyone I can! Further donations can be made on my personal website, and the donation tiers outline the rewards I'll provide when the transaction is complete! Sound good?'

Everyone yelled out affirmation, Lena noticing some people already working through their phones, potentially to contribute immediately.

'Awesome! Awesome! You're all the best! Now, without further adieu, let's get this party started!'

'Yeah!' Lena jumped again, and she wasn't alone whatsoever.

'I can't hear you! I said: Let's. Get. This. Party. Started!'

The whole club was shaking due to the overwhelming response, and in another second, Lucio dropped the beat that reverberated throughout every soul present. Lena could tell immediately that his command of music was extraordinary, forcing the melodies prior into oblivion. There was a reason Lucio had gained such a massive following, and his talent was instantly put on display for all to witness, his passion and dedication to his craft shining through even to the most ignorant.

'Whooo! Do you feel that!?' Lucio's voice bounced everywhere, his dreadlocks frolicking around him and the lights simply dazzling amidst his display. He scratched discs and jumped about, shifting sounds and effects with seemingly little to no effort.

It was a wonderful song full of hope and inspiration, and Lena couldn't stop herself from dancing. She turned to Sombra, who appeared just a little sour, and pulled her in, grabbing at her hands and swinging them around with her.

'If he could've, he would have helped you, too!' Lena said quite seriously, but Sombra laughed it off, evidently safeguarding that side of herself rather readily.

'I'm beyond saving, Girlie.'

And Lena knew to leave it at that. She and Sombra revelled in the music, and Lena allowed the world around her to become engraved in her memory. She smiled at an omnic dancing a bit offbeat, and he waved at her a little shyly. She screamed and jumped about, shaking and shimmying all around, sometimes matching Sombra's moves and teasing the other girl with some suggestive acts of her own. The tracks faded into one another, but Lena couldn't get enough. Everyone was together, enjoying this moment in the Iris as Mondatta could only dream of. It was an emotional turn of events, and Lena could only cheer anytime Lucio called out to his fans, sweat gleaming off his dark skin within the blitzing lights.

It was wonderful. It was almost too wonderful. It was the potential of humanity and omnics alike.

'Here comes a big one, yo! Are you ready for it?'

'He's not bad.' Sombra said loud enough for Lena to hear her words laced with oppression suddenly. She grabbed Sombra's wrist, her chest tightening instinctively.

'Don't!' She pleaded, somehow knowing the hacker was finally done playing.

'Sorry, "Luv". I get a job, I follow through.'

'No!' Lena repeated her disdain.

'Aw, come on! You all can do better than that! Let me hear you scream!'

'Oh, they'll scream alright.' Sombra giggled.

'Sombra! Please!'

She thought if she kept her close everything would be fine. She thought she could maybe even influence her positively somehow. She thought she could help Sombra first and Widowmaker second. She thought so very, very wrong.

'Boop.' Sombra's grin widened across her face, and suddenly, the entire building was swallowed in a perfect abyss of darkness.

Immediate panic. Even the backup generators weren't kicking in. Phones were brought out, but collectively they couldn't do _that_ much. What sort of monsters had Talon collected into a single organization? Sombra had nuked Numbani's electricity like that? Or was it just Club Se7en?

It didn't matter. What mattered was Lena had to evaluate her current situation and react accordingly. What was Sombra's objective? Why kill the lights? What was in Numbani that benefitted Talon to proceed in such a way?

The Overwatch agent's eyes stretched open, her body being shoved every which way. She was light to begin with, so it was easy to trample her. Lena dashed out alongside the crowd, but the congestion at the doors only created a bottleneck of humans and omnics.

'Rubbish…' Lena groaned. How had Sombra escaped so quickly? She was obviously nowhere to be seen. How far back did her planning extend? Was it all just an act? Would Lena receive information about Widowmaker still? Did Sombra find _any_ joy in her outing with Lena? Were Talon agents a lost cause first and foremost? Would Widowmaker laugh in Lena's face again if she tried to offer a helping hand to the pitiful woman?

'Coming through!' Lena announced prior to blinking amidst the crowd. She _had_ to get out and determine what needed to be done to counter whatever Sombra and Talon were planning. Lucio had an entourage to protect him, but not every citizen in Numbani had that luxury, so, they came first. Lena would do everything in her power to help those that couldn't help themselves. She was blessed with abilities that she would _always_ use for the betterment of mankind and omnics.

Upon making it out of Club Se7en finally, Lena was welcomed with utter darkness within the city of Numbani save for the sparse stars and partially hidden moon that remained in the sky. The citizens of the wonderful place were in near-panic, and rightly so. A power outage of this scale wasn't normally possible, and even if it was, there was always some form of backup. But not this time. Sombra was proving her strength, and she was indefinitely a force to be reckoned with if she was capable of hacking such a state-of-the-art civilization so deeply.

Lena was shoved this way and that as she continued to scan the area, searching for some meaning behind all of this. The thought that it was just a silly prank passed through her mind, but she knew it was only false hope and naiveté fueling that notion. As instinctively as she felt Sombra's shift in demeanor, she knew something big was coming, and the hair on her head fizzled in anticipation.

A familiar tune played within Lena's pocket, and she hastily picked up her phone, bringing it to her ear and dashing into the crowd further, hearing Winston's voice on the other line.

"Get to the airport now! Genji and I will rendezvous with you there! The mission changed shortly after you departed! Numbani has been compromised! Talon is trying to get Doomfist back in action! We have to stop that from happening at all costs!"

'Roger!' Lena kept pushing, blinking and leaping about through the city. It was some intense information all at once, but because of the immediate crisis, Lena's adrenaline allowed her to adapt without compromise. This was a mission she could redeem herself in. If she stopped Doomfist from rejoining Talon's ranks, perhaps she could sleep a little easier at night without replaying that same moment again and again when she evaded death only to deliver it to someone much worthier than she.

A notification sounded on Lena's phone again, and midair, she checked the message from an unknown sender. She could figure it out easily enough, however, and her chest ached at the futility she suddenly felt.

"Thanks for the sexy time, Girlie. Good luck."

Lena bit at her lip and pushed harder, her chronal accelerator buzzing through her demands. As she approached the airport, her legs being taxed with effort, an explosion erupted from her destination, and shrieks of fear sounded all around her. Moments ago, thousands were screaming for joy. Now, tens of thousands were howling in shock and confusion.

'Just a little further…!' Lena wheezed, and another explosion went off at the airport quickly coming closer into view. Lena's eyes were adjusting to the night as she went, but that didn't help the fact she didn't have her pistols on her. She could only distract and evade Doomfist until Winston and Genji made it. If anyone was up to such a daunting task, it was her.

A third explosion followed by a multitude of more minor ones shook the very ground Lena leapt from, and she staggered, breaking her way into the airport by blinking past the various omnic guards and police. She was commanded to "stop", but there was no time to explain. Upon entering the main entrance to Numbani's airport, Lena glanced around to gauge the situation as quickly as her mind would allow. More than a dozen OR15 units lay in shambles, sparks of life electrifying the air with their last gasps. Craters littered the flooring and walls, with glass shattered every which way, and the sheer volume of destruction intimidating even to one of Overwatch's finest.

'Tracer…' A low voice rumbled, with some form of backup, battery-operated lighting barely casting a red hue about the whole area. Lena found the speaker, and she swallowed deeply, seeing the sheer force that was Doomfist and the incredible gauntlet that he had finally stolen back. The piece of equipment whirred in response to his voice, and in another second, an OR15's head was crushed within it, a sad groan escaping from the machine's voice box before it was nothing more than sparks like its brethren before it.

'The cavalry's here, Luv, and I'm gonna stop you dead in your tracks.'

'Oh?' Doomfist turned, standing very still but leaving not a single opening. Lena could tell; he was a born and bred fighter. He was waiting for her to make the first move, maybe, and then he would react in turn, honing his sense of combat to beat even someone with the speed Lena could command.

'If you prove more powerful than I, then that was all I had to offer to this world.' He cracked his enormous neck, shifting his stance ever so slightly. Not a single OR15 unit remained active. He had single-handily destroyed them all. The numbers had been against him, but he won nonetheless. Lena couldn't underestimate yet another beast in Talon's grasp.

'However, I very much doubt that will be the result.' Unexpectantly, Doomfist launched himself into the air, and as if propelled by an imaginary force, he came down on Lena with incredible speed. Lena, naturally, dodged with ease, but even his impact with the ground caused a force that pushed Lena off balance, and she had to waste another blink to evade projectiles that skimmed her cheek. Doomfist kept the pressure up, and he was on Lena again, dashing forward and completely obliterating anything that got in his way, his gauntlet sending all debris through windows and crashing into walls. Lena recalled her place, but it did little to save her from another attack, as Doomfist closed the gap yet again, thrusting his right arm forward and even extending it slightly, the air parting for its attack and whooshing past Lena's face as she leapt away, using the last of her blinks available for seconds she didn't have.

'Bloody hell…!' Lena gasped, knowing she was being outmatched _again_. Sure, she didn't have any means of fighting back, but staying out of the enemy's grasp was her specialty, and yet, this man was reading her every move before she even made it seemingly.

'Impressive, but still underdeveloped.' Doomfist mocked, and Lena grimaced at what came next, for her chronal accelerator was recovering, while Doomfist was only getting started.

Fortunately, from deeper within the airport, glass exploded, and Winston's amazing form sprung from the steps leading into the actual airport of Numbani. He met Doomfist in melee combat, and matched the man's power with his own, the gorilla's skin and hair already red with fury. Another form joined the fray as well, and Lena caught sight of the infamous Genji, of the Shimada clan and former Blackwatch agent. He was one of the few that could somewhat keep up with Lena's speed, but his skill with the sword was nearly unrivaled, and he made use of said talent by assisting Winston in quite the spectacle of combative prowess.

'Hmph. So, you would use your numbers to overwhelm a threat beyond your capabilities? That will not always be a luxury afforded to man!' Doomfist growled, but he was obviously being pushed back now. Overwatch was a large organization even after the disbandment and newer recall, but within the large organization there were only approximately a dozen extraordinary members that could quite literally shift an entire war. They were considered heroes and heralded as such for a reason. Genji could potentially fall under such a category now, but Winston and Lena were, without a doubt, part of that super elite categorization. As two pistols slid near Lena a second later, thanks perhaps to Winston's foresight, the "poster child" of Overwatch was ready to prove just that.

'Heheh! Now it's time to play for real!' Lena laughed, and she was in the fight anew, keeping her distance but firing off her Pulse Pistols to at least pick at Doomfist's focus while Genji and Winston kept the pressure up. As good as Doomfist was, and he was nothing short of amazing physically, he was quite clearly on the defensive, and there was little chance he would subdue three legendary Overwatch agents all on his own. Doomfist attempted to create distance with his hand cannon shots, but Genji was like a magnet to the bullets, deflecting them with heightened sense and agility. Winston managed the massive gauntlet in the meantime, and Lena's bullets ricocheted off a minor barrier Doomfist had constantly erected due to his perceivable cybernetic enhancements. Nonetheless, the Talon monster was losing his edge, and it was only a matter of time prior to the man's…

'Psst. Miss me?' Lena felt a tap and the words whisper into her ear before it felt almost as though a spirit passed through her, ripping at her innards and rendering her chronal accelerator's time manipulation capabilities useless. The whole area shivered in a violet hue, and suddenly, Doomfist was in the air, Genji and Winston both caught off balance, perhaps also having their superhuman abilities compromised to some extent.

Lena caught sight of Sombra for but a moment, and she was gone in another, teleporting with a buzz as if she hadn't been there at all. After another second, Doomfist's incredible form slammed into the ground. He was like a meteor, and his impact with the airport's flooring reacted appropriately, the earth upturned, and another wave of power pushing any and all away from its centre. Winston, Genji, and Lena flew in all directions, dust, rubble, and further debris exploding every which way, all remaining windows within the vicinity shattering instantaneously. Lena wiped her eyes, and stumbled to her feet, but a smoke bomb was already filling the area, and Doomfist was quite evidently gone. The advantage Overwatch had was lost, and with it, Doomfist's re-imprisonment.

Lena heard Winston hacking away and a solemn sigh from Genji. She withdrew her phone and began tapping at it furiously.

"Is everything just a game to you? You'll do anything as long as you get paid?"

The response was almost immediate. Lena had barely hit "send".

"I told you, didn't I? I had a job. Job done. Lotsa money coming my way. Cut the network and give Doomgloom an opportunity to escape? Easy-peasy. Glad you survived the big guy's super attack thingy though."

"You don't have to work for them, you know? Overwatch will take you in."

"Save it for Spider, Girlie. I _know_ what I'm doing, at least. Still got my brain and all."

"Which means you can be reasoned with, don't it?"

"Oh. Neato. Guess we're all going to Venice soon. Get your plane tickets. Spider is probably goin' to be there."

"What? Why Venice?"

But no matter how many messages Lena sent from then onward, she didn't receive another reply. Eventually, the texts were bounced back, and she knew Sombra would only ever contact her again on her terms and her terms only.


	22. XXII: Pharah

Pharah

Fareeha should've been resting. The quickest way for her to recover came from giving her body the chance it needed to heal on its own. And yet, she couldn't sleep; not by a long shot. She kept closing her eyes, but she could literally feel them having a spasm behind her lids. Sleep was impossible. Sleep could only be imagined when all Fareeha could think about was Angela.

Fareeha pulled the covers up over her face at the internal admittance to herself.

The last battle had made it brutally clear to the woman that, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she now knew she harboured feelings for Angela. She thought perhaps it was a sense of admiration taken too far, but the fact she didn't react similarly to any other "legendary" Overwatch hero was telling. Not only that but, reflecting upon it further, Fareeha had felt a spark the moment she met Angela again after so many years. That initial spark had only grown despite Fareeha's attempts to reduce the swelling in her heart. When Fareeha's very life was in danger, she could only think of two people: her mother, Ana, and the woman that had touched her soul in recent days, Angela Ziegler.

Was it love? Fareeha couldn't say quite yet. But she could certainly submit to the very reality that she was, at the very least, interested in Angela. And she was interested in having something more than simple friendship with the older woman. It's why she had gathered all the courage she had and asked Angela on what could very well be interpreted as a "date".

But that was all a matter of perspective, and even Fareeha wasn't foolish enough to assume Angela could be aware of Fareeha's intentions. _Fareeha_ barely knew her own intentions. All she knew was that she wanted to spend more time with Angela to figure her own feelings out and proceed from there.

It was insanity. Angela Ziegler was a world-famous doctor that could, quite realistically, have whoever she wanted in her life romantically. She had _chosen_ to not see anybody for so many years. So, why did Fareeha think she even had a figment of a chance? She didn't. But that also didn't mean she wouldn't try, at the very least. Fareeha had learned, quite the hard way, that not even trying could lead to a world of regrets. She would never make that mistake again.

The Egyptian groaned into her blanket, the deep gash still healing on her face swelling painfully.

Waking up from such a brutal battle only to see Angela was like a dream, and it had emboldened Fareeha enough to do something she had never done before to someone who she felt was leagues beyond her.

 _"I would like that very much. Yes."_

She had said "yes". Not only that, but it was said with enough confidence that Fareeha didn't get the impression Angela was committing to the outing due to pity. Granted, "social rhetoric" was Fareeha's area of opportunity, so, what did she know? All she knew was that she now had to actually follow through with the gettogether, and it was nothing short of terrifying.

And thus, the inability to sleep. And yet, the hours went by as Fareeha's thoughts swirled in a cyclical fashion. Excitement. Fear. Joy. Relief. Anxiety. She went through the emotions as the waves of memories and anticipation tormented and invigorated her. The moment she got better, she prayed she would be able to remind Angela of their "date", or whatever it could be called. She prayed she wouldn't back down from this opportunity. She hoped she could manage to keep her composure in the face of such an incredible human being.

"Fareeha?" An unfamiliar voice came over the intercom nearby, and Fareeha jumped, fearing her inner turmoil was so prevalent that anyone could tell what she was thinking.

'Yes?' She answered, her voice groggy.

"You have a visitor. Are you well enough to entertain one?"

Fareeha's heart skipped a beat.

'Yes. Please let them in.'

Was it Angela? Who else could it be? Maybe Jack? Winston? Fareeha couldn't be sure, but the slight chance of seeing Angela again _did_ send her mind into a frenzy, and Fareeha sat up, adjusting her messy hair a little as the door slid open and Bradley stepped in.

It wasn't fair to the poor man, but the level of disappointment Fareeha felt was almost crushing. She attempted not to let it show, but she doubted she succeeded overly well. Perhaps blaming her state would be believable.

'Hey, Fareeha. Glad to see you're awake and seem to be doing a little better.' The fellow Overwatch agent made his way to a nearby seat, his raven hair freshly washed and smelling rather nice. His sharp features and darker skin made him, admittedly, fairly appealing, and the fact he had light blue eyes despite all this was even more fetching. Fareeha didn't deny that Bradley was a good looking individual, but that was as far as her appraisal of him went. She liked him enough, but when she entertained the idea of being "more" than just friendly with her temporary mentor she knew the shiver that ran her spine was the answer to any more investigation into that realm.

'Dr. Ziegler is quite the miracle worker.' Fareeha hoped she didn't say the woman's name with the affection that jolted through her system.

'She _is_ that. Cleared the room and everything when she saw you. I tried to stay, but she can have quite the death glare. Did you know that? Always thought she was supposed to be super sweet and angelic. Funny.'

'There's certainly a lot more to her than meets the eye.'

'Well, I guess that's what happens when you're a celebrity. Finding out how human all these heroes are is pretty humbling. Makes me want to try harder. I mean, sure, some of them have been…er…altered in some ways, if you want to get into details, but that doesn't mean I can't push myself a little bit, right? You're normal enough, and you saved half our squad!'

'My mother was also considered "normal", and she was classified as one of the best shots in the world.'

'Exactly. Keep up the good work and you'll be just as legendary, I'm sure.'

'Oh, I don't know about that.'

'Come on.' Bradley gave Fareeha a light jab, and she grinned doubtfully. 'You really do have something special going on. Maybe…maybe that's why I have a hard time keeping my eyes off you.'

Fareeha laughed.

'That, or I seem to make a spectacle of myself whenever the chance is there.'

A small pause followed Fareeha's reply, and she watched Bradley's face drop a little. Had she missed something? Rhetoric. Social rhetoric. Was that it? Was there more behind Bradley's words? Was he being serious? Was he trying to…flirt with Fareeha? He did seem to snatch any opportunity to be with her, but she thought it was more so out of their shared heritage. Now that she thought about it, she had caught him looking at her a few times more than one might expect.

'Oh.' Fareeha shook her head, not able to look at Bradley right away. 'That is…um…thank-you?'

'Hahah!' Bradley's face broke, and he nudged Fareeha again. 'Not someone fishing for compliments, huh?'

'No. I guess not.'

The fellow agent stretched, sighing as he exhaled strongly.

'You've interested me since the moment I met you, Fareeha. I felt pretty blessed to be your mentor for a time, although you pretty well knew everything I tried to show you outside of Overwatch protocol.'

Fareeha shifted in bed. She was suddenly feeling sore again. She had been in such conversations before, although not recently or frequently. She had been on enough dates, as she told Angela before, and she had even slept with men before, but just the thought of doing either thing with Bradley when Angela was so prominently on her mind was…nauseating?

'Right…' Fareeha practically gasped.

'Anyway, the last mission got me thinking…and I made a promise to myself not to waste any more time because we all don't know how much of that we got left.'

'True.' Fareeha had to agree, for she was spurred into action in a similar fashion.

'So, yeah, if – when you're better, of course – you want to maybe spend some time together, like, get a drink or something like that, then I would be honoured to have your company.'

Fareeha swallowed, the lump in her throat hurting. Yet, a thought passed through her mind, and her heart swelled suddenly.

'So…that would be a "date", right? A…romantic outing between two people? What you just asked me is undoubtedly a proposal to go on a date with you?'

Bradley laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck.

'Well, yeah, I guess you could say that, Fareeha. You ever been on a date before? You almost make it sound totally foreign to you.'

'It isn't. I was just curious.' Fareeha tried not to smile. So, Angela had agreed to her request when it was so obviously a date? No. Maybe not. It was different between persons of the same sex still. She couldn't make any assumptions. No matter how far society had come, even Fareeha knew it was still not _quite_ normal yet for two individuals of the same sex to be involved with one another in such a way. Fareeha had a feeling it would never really be completely "normal" somehow. Even someone like the amazing Tracer was whispered about here and there. Fareeha herself had heard it. It had sickened her.

'So…?' Bradley persisted, and Fareeha realized she couldn't say "yes", which meant something of an awkward interaction from here on out. Social rhetoric. She needed it now more than ever, but she was blunt by nature, and it was a hard habit to kill.

'No, thank-you. I don't think that is a good idea.'

Bradley physically appeared to be pushed back, and he laughed in embarrassment, obviously not expecting such a curt response.

'…Really?'

'Yes. Really.'

'Wow. I…definitely misread something.'

'You did? How?'

'I just thought…Huh. Maybe we had a connection?'

'We are comrades, yes. We share the same heritage as well. I like you as friend, there is no doubt about that either.'

'Right. Right.' Bradley fumbled. He was generally fairly smooth; thus, it was a little odd to witness him so dishevelled. 'So, you have a boyfriend already?'

'I do not.'

Bradley shook his head, evidently confused, and Fareeha saw her chance to show some intelligence during this social exchange.

'However, I think I am interested in somebody, and that is why I would rather not risk jeopardizing that potential relationship just yet.'

'Oh.' Bradley nodded happily, relief on his face. 'Oh! Okay. That makes a bit more sense.'

'Does it? I'm glad to hear so.' Fareeha grinned, her head pulsating a bit.

'Not much I can do, then. I mean, if that goes south, feel free to let me know and then maybe you can give us a chance?' He was shrugging, evidently shy about pushing his luck, but admirable and flattering in his own way as well.

'I can do that, yes. Thanks for understanding.'

'Ah. No problem. Just work on getting better, okay? Either way, our unit wants to treat you to something special for helping us out. We're also going to be holding a little funeral for the agents lost. The date and time is T.B.D., but it's the least we can do.'

'I'll be there.' Fareeha nodded firmly, and Bradley gave her a lingering look, getting up and cracking his neck.

'Great. Glad to hear it. And with that, I'll leave you to rest.' He paused at the door, breathing out deeply. 'I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that; especially when you're sort of recovering. Definitely bad form.'

'Not at all.' Fareeha waved her friend off. 'I'm honoured, really. You are a good man.'

'Coming from you, that can only lift a guy's spirits for days on end.' He gave Fareeha a small salute. 'Take it easy, soldier.'

'You, too, Bradley.'

And he was gone, leaving Fareeha to herself and thoughts of a certain angelic individual that continued to distract her the more she allowed her mind to imagine. It was a curious thing, for Fareeha's first time with a man was not an overly pleasant experience. If she were to be honest, it was downright miserable. Perhaps because she didn't really like him to begin with and was pressured into the act, or perhaps because she was always that much more interested in her career and following in her mother's footsteps. Either way, she distanced herself from such scenarios from that point forward. Any form of a sexual relationship was very much a distraction Fareeha had no reason to participate in.

And yet now, at thirty-two, well into her womanhood, Fareeha finally felt something like a spark of intrigue that expanded beyond passing curiosity. Her, admittedly, limited imagination was being tested, and she pictured Angela close to her, their faces mere inches apart, so close she could feel the other woman's breath. Did she want to kiss her? Was that truly what Fareeha desired? Angela's lips looked so soft and full. Her blue eyes were like the purest aquamarines Fareeha had ever seen. Her body was slender but shapely in all the right places, practically sculpted by the gods of lore.

'Mmm…' Fareeha's voice hummed, the lower half of her blanket shifting slightly.

If given the opportunity, would Fareeha be willing to hold Angela's beautiful face in her hands and tell her how much she adored her? Could Fareeha slowly peel off the doctor's lab coat, skirt, blouse, and underwear to reveal her feminine form? Would Fareeha be capable of drawing pleasure from Angela's soft, pale skin, her modest but pleasing chest, and her slender legs? How did two women make love exactly?

'A-ah…'

Right. Perhaps that was a silly question. Fareeha was a woman as well. Although that didn't give her all the answers she needed, she had a better grasp of what to do than when placed before a man's wishes. A woman would like to be touched and eased into the exchange. Fareeha would start by kissing Angela softly, and then, as that kiss grew more intense, she would caress the other girl, learning where and how she liked to be pleasured by the way her voice moaned through her throat.

'Hah…h-hah…'

What sort of voice would Angela have in the heat of the moment? It would surely be adorable. She would resist giving herself over completely, for she seemed proud, like Fareeha, but the Egyptian had confidence she could convince the doctor otherwise.

'Ung…'

The images in Fareeha's brain escalated alongside her own rhythmic allowance. She had rarely engaged in such an act of self relief, but she couldn't stop herself now. She could almost feel Angela's naked form beneath her own, their bodies pressed together and lips passionately embracing one another. They wanted nothing but pleasure for their respective partner, and Fareeha bit down hard on her lip, her body still aching, but her desires suddenly hurting even more so.

'Angela…Angela…' Fareeha gasped, a current of ecstasy overtaking her abdomen, circulating downward.

Suddenly, however, the door to Fareeha's private room slid open once more, and the young woman's whole body jumped, her heart racing and her right hand immediately extracted. In her momentary disillusionment, Fareeha hardly believed her eyes, but after a secondary assessment, she knew it was Angela who had suddenly entered.

'Hello, Fareeha. How did you rest last night? It's nearly midday, you know? Bradley told me you seemed fairly well.'

Fareeha breathed out slowly. Her mind was compromised, she knew, but she still couldn't help but eye Angela as tentatively as she could get away with. She was dressed somewhat casually, but there was something about that lab coat and loose-fitted t-shirt beneath that drove her wild suddenly.

'Fine. I-I'm fine.' She stuttered, cursing herself.

Angela raised a brow, checking Fareeha's forehead and cocking her head slightly.

'You're perspiring slightly, but you don't have a fever. Are you too hot? Shall I get you some thinner blankets?'

'Er…I don't think so.'

'Hm.' Angela grinned a little, and Fareeha prayed she couldn't tell somehow. 'Well, you seem to be doing well otherwise, and that pleases me greatly. I still have my touch, it seems.'

'You do.' Fareeha felt her cheeks burning.

Angela giggled a little, but then her expression grew serious, and she pulled in a chair near Fareeha, concerning the other woman.

'You didn't require a follow up quite yet, but I needed to tell you something. Jack insisted that I simply e-mail you the details, since time is of the essence, but I felt you deserved a face-to-face disclosure.'

'Oh. Okay.' Fareeha blinked, suddenly concerned about this seeming blessing of a visit.

'The situation in Russia has escalated into globally dangerous territory over the past twenty-four hours. Overwatch has to act now or the second Omnic War could be officially upon us. Winston and Genji are already en route from their skirmish in Numbani, but we cannot wait for the others anymore. They have been given the mission statement, and we can only hope they make their way there as well to assist.'

'…Who are "they"?' Fareeha felt light-headed, but she could manage that question at least.

This brought a small smile to Angela's pretty face.

'You might recognize some of their names. Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and even his daughter, Brigitte, will be joining the fight.'

'Reinhardt?' He had always been one of the greatest heroes in Fareeha's mind.

'Heheh! Your eyes sparkled a little. Quite adorable.'

'I-it's just…meeting you and Jack was amazing enough. I'm still adjusting to being a part of all this, I guess.'

'You're nothing to be ashamed of either, Fareeha. Your name is quite popular among the higher ranks right now, I'll have you know.' Angela raised a finger to her lips quickly thereafter. 'Oh, but don't let anyone know I've told you. Our little secret, yes?'

'Of course.'

The doctor's face dropped again, and she placed a hand on Fareeha's shoulder suddenly, almost intimately, although Fareeha's prior activity could have been warping her perception of everything.

'In any case, I am here now to let you know…that I am being dispatched to Russia to aid in the fight. It's that serious. They need me on site and even in the battle itself to reduce the number of casualties.'

'What!?' Fareeha sat up, her wounds pulsating from the sudden movement. 'No!'

'It is nothing new. I've been active in such fights before. It is…somewhat frightening, I suppose, but I've been blessed with such talents for a reason, and I will not shirk my duties because of…some recent changes in perspective, perhaps.'

Fareeha's jaw tightened, and she shook her head.

'Then I am coming with you.' She said automatically, not caring for formalities when the life of this woman was suddenly at stake.

'You won't be cleared to participate in your current state, Fareeha. I promise you that.'

'I don't care. It's up to me.'

'Not if you can potentially become a hinderance to the mission. Jack would never allow it.'

'But…!' Fareeha grimaced, her cheek and collar hurting.

'Fareeha.' Angela said her name so tenderly, and the other woman could only subdue her frustration some. 'I resisted as much as I could, but I will admit now, amidst these circumstances, that I value our friendship more than I could have ever anticipated. I look forward to deepening our bond, for true companionship is a rarity for individuals such as us, I believe.'

'But what if you don't come back? What if I never see you again?'

Angela's lip quivered, but she was used to difficult conversations, and she held fast.

'It is the reality of my job, Fareeha. I'm sorry. It's why I distance myself so adamantly. It's why I attempted to do the same with you…and somehow failed along the way.'

Fareeha wanted to say it right there. She wasn't sure of her feelings exactly, but she felt compelled to say it as the potential she was starting to see began to crumble around her.

 _I care about you._

But she couldn't. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel fair. And thus, she endowed her military training and nodded slowly.

'…Fine. We both failed in that regard, it seemed.'

'Kindred spirituality has a way of working past our personal preferences.' Angela shrugged, her phone going off and her visage faltering at what could only be a message of urgency regarding the mission to Russia. 'I must go…'

Fareeha's face buzzed, but she relented.

'I'll…miss you.' She pushed the words out. She could admit that much, at the very least.

'I'll miss you, too, Fareeha. Very much.' Angela replied quickly, her voice finally shaking. She went to the door hastily, perhaps to hide the emotion beginning to overtake her, and waved on her way out, struggling it seemed, to Fareeha's mixture of devastation and crude relief.

The Egyptian woman grunted, pushing herself out of bed, but stumbled, her body sore all over. If she could get at her armour and convince Bradley to fly her to Russia, she could…

Fareeha's phone went off, and she managed to check the message from Angela. It nearly took her breath away, and tears finally began to fill her dark, wondering eyes.

"Get back into bed, Ms. Amari. How are we ever supposed to have a drink together if you won't allow yourself to recover properly?"


	23. XXIII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

 _BLAM!_

The shot echoed in the air, but the night festivities of Venice almost totally drowned it out. The man dropped, and he was promptly removed from the gate, the nearby partying in the streets not missing but a beat. He would also not be missed. He was even wearing a mask, for God's sake.

Widowmaker leaned back, her eyes staring into the starlit darkness above her, and she breathed out slowly, with a small quiver passing through her full lips.

'Target neutralized.' She uttered simply.

Mission accomplished. How…pathetic. If this was what Akande had planned going forward, Widow might have to reconsider her placement in his ranks. This kill was hardly a taste of what Widowmaker needed. Her temple pulsated, sparked with intrigue, unknowing that the fun was over. Any further stimulus simply wasn't going to occur. The night may have well been over for Widowmaker. She was to ensure the meeting about to take place between Akande and his personal inner circle remain uninterrupted. But even she was aware that the chances of any more Talon members pushing their way inside was slim to none within the time allotted.

Mission accomplished. How…unsatisfying. Widowmaker turned her headset down low, ignoring the conversations still circulating between Sombra, Akande, and now Reaper himself, who was more than willing to fight alongside Doomfist's ideals. What happened from this point forward meant nothing to her. Let them plot. Let them backstab one another. Let them die. So long as she was told who to kill, she didn't care.

Widowmaker groaned silently to herself, shouldering her weapon and standing upright, the ridiculous outfit she was forced to wear to better blend in gripping her arms and legs like some sort of masochist's ultimate fantasy. However, on the outside, she looked like something akin to a black swan. The costume wouldn't be completely misplaced on the stage of a professional ballet production, and parts of Widowmaker's brain sparked when she first lay eyes upon the design.

 _"Sexy."_ Sombra had said. She willingly wore her jester ensemble, while Reaper equipped some form of skeletal monstrosity, of course. Akande was merely a masked vigilante; also fairly appropriate.

Widowmaker looked down at those below her, a sector of the city completely alit with joy and celebration. For what? Widow didn't know. And it didn't truly matter. All she knew was that such frivolity meant her mission was that much easier. In fact, perhaps she could simply take out a few more individuals to help sedate her craving. Her chest was beginning to burn, and the poison Moira insisted on pushing through the sniper's veins was acting up again. The waves were even more consistent with every passing hour. Before she couldn't enjoy anything at all, how good would it feel to see how many bullets she could use to kill as many of these simpletons as possible? Even if Widow got "in trouble", it's not as though she would feel anything in relation to such a confrontation. It could be worth it.

Widowmaker readied her sniper rifle, the Widow's Kiss, and aimed amongst the crowd, seeing a small family consisting of a man, woman, and their little girl. What would Mommy and little Suzy think if Daddy's head just suddenly exploded during their pleasant outing? If Daddy's brains showered all over Little Suzy, how loud would she wail? Would her cry change something in Widow's perspective? It would certainly be an interesting experiment to help pass the time and fill the emptiness continuing to spread through Widowmaker's entire body. It would be so easy, too. They wouldn't even see it coming.

And thus, Widowmaker lowered her gun, closing her eyes and biting at the inside of her mouth, drawing blood, but hardly noticing even as it dripped down her throat.

Pathetic. It would be a pathetic kill. If anything, it would negate the nearly useless elation she barely grasped from the mission's objective. At least the man she just dropped worked for Talon. At least he had blood on his hands and was trained, to some extent. He knew what he signed up for. That family? What was the point? There wasn't one, even to the world's greatest assassin.

" – maker…Widowmaker. Do you copy?"

'Yes?' Widow shook her head, the extravagant headpiece a little heavier than she would prefer. Akande's deep, powerful voice was unmistakable. It jolted her slightly, her limbs weighing less now.

"The meeting is about to begin. Good work. I'm turning off my communication device. Use the emergency function, if necessary, but I won't take any risks."

'Yes.'

"Feel free to enjoy the party while I am in talks with the others. It might help push back at the drug until Sombra completes her new mission."

'You must be joking.'

"Heheh. Only partially. Be on guard."

'Overwatch…?'

"Highly unlikely, but I do not lower my defenses. Ever. I shouldn't be longer than an hour or two. Out."

The click in Widow's headset signalled that Akande was truly gone, and she sighed, not confident she could make it "an hour or two" resisting the urge to simply jump off the incredibly high roof she had navigated to, away from anything and everything in order to easily make her shot, hundreds of meters away without hardly breaking a sweat.

Ending it all. Not precisely a foreign thought, but a seldom one nonetheless. Perhaps Talon had manipulated that part of her thought processing as well. Perhaps it was simply animalistic instinct, like her desire to kill, that prevented her from giving in to the "sweet slumber" of death. To an outsider, she may look like a trapped fly, with Talon as the spider, ironically enough. Moira's newest experiment was working, because Widowmaker didn't care either way. So long as she was allowed to flutter about and "pretend" to be the spider, life could be but a dream.

"Psst. Psst. Psst. Psst. I'll keep going, you know?"

Widowmaker rolled her eyes, the motion feeling sluggish as she turned her communicator back up.

'What do you want?' She demanded of the persistent hacker, knowing that, even if she turned off her device, the crazed individual could very well power it back up remotely until an answer was given.

"Aw. Don't be like that. Not when I got a nice little gift on the way for our poor, lonely spider."

'Any gift from you is a gift I can do without.'

"Now, now. Would you be saying that if I told you this? A tiny speed demon is on her way for a rematch. One guess who it is. Ready? Go."

Widowmaker physically lurched forward, grabbing at her chest and huffing, air suddenly difficult to manage in her mouth and lungs.

"Heheheh! Someone just get a little moist from that? Time to change the undies?"

'…Is this a joke?' Widow uttered, glancing from side to side, wondering if Sombra was truly playing the fool, as her garbs somewhat demanded.

"No joke. Sent her your coordinates, like, two minutes ago. She landed in Venice about an hour ago. With her legs and that spiffy piece of tech, she'll be there any second. Have fun."

'Why would you do this? Are you betraying Talon?'

"Oh, please. Don't pretend you even sorta care about loyalty. Besides, how can a girl betray something she's never committed to in the first place? Answer me that."

Widowmaker finally managed to steady her breathing, but she was standing, her rifle at ready and her breaths still coming out in quick rasps. Moira's toxin seemingly repelled, the assassin truly reacting physically against her will. Did she want this dance so badly? The answer was as clear as the night sky and the stars within it. That little girl made Widow utilize every skill in her arsenal to come out on top. It's why she let her live, after all. But to think she would have such a chance so soon?

Something pricked the corner of Widowmaker's mouth, and she sighed into her communicator, a groan fluttering between her words.

' _Thank-you, my dearest_.' She cooed in her mother tongue, and Sombra giggled awkwardly.

"Damn. Now _I'm_ wet. Hahah! Be good, you crazy kids." And there was another click, but almost as soon as she registered it, Widowmaker forcibly removed the device from her headpiece and crushed it under her heel, licking her lips and closing her eyes, narrowing her heightened senses even further into her ears.

' _Well, well. It looks like I will dance tonight after all._ '

And, as if on cue, she heard it. Like the wind was being cut apart, she knew that sound well now. It was committed to memory after their very first encounter in the museum, and even further memorized in King's Row. She was approximately eight hundred metres away, by Widow's calculation, but that was nothing for one of Overwatch's best. Sombra hadn't lied. This was happening. Widow took one final breath out and balanced her posture.

There it was again. And again. There would be a pause for a time. Widowmaker had determined during their most recent encounter that there was certainly a limit to the girl's time manipulation. It wasn't endless. She had restrictions. Mere seconds, if the agent timed her jumps and recalls properly, but precious seconds to a skilled killer nonetheless.

Four hundred metres. Three hundred. Two hundred.

There.

She landed atop the roof, somehow heroically, opposite to Widowmaker in a blur of yellow, red, and blue, her chronal accelerator glowing proudly upon her chest. She was in full uniform. It was official business. Perfect.

'Widowmaker…' Tracer started, a strangeness to her voice that annoyed the assassin. 'Or…do you want me to call you Amelie?'

'Does it matter?' Widow shivered, but not from being cold, naturally. 'You've come for revenge, then? You wouldn't be the first, nor will you be the last, surely.'

'If it comes down to it, Luv, but I'm here to take you in alive. Overwatch isn't the type to just kill willy-nilly, and I think, deep down, you're not either.'

A beat, as Widowmaker processed the information. What was this girl going on about? It was time to open her sparkling eyes. It was time to infuriate her so that the dance could commence as it had before.

 _Why!?_

Stop it. That moment meant nothing. This was all Widowmaker had. If she let this chance slip, she would surely regret it forever. No distractions. There was only the kill. If need be, she would end this girl tonight, but even that path wasn't precisely ideal. This dance suddenly became her purpose, and it was simple enough to comprehend.

'I killed your beacon of light, little girl. I've killed hundreds, and I feel _nothing_. I will keep killing until I can kill no more. That is all I'll ever be, and it's all I wish to be.'

'Funny thing, that, because I just don't believe you. You're not a machine. You only do watcha gotta do to survive. Those guards at King's Row? Injured, for sure. Bloody hell, they were in real bad shape, but not one of them was dead. Not one. _I'm_ not dead, and _I'm_ , like, what, "undesirable no. 1" or what have you?'

Widowmaker was growing more impatient, her body aching, but she couldn't stop staring at Tracer, her beaming visage almost too bright within the moonlight. This child was insane to try and speak with Widowmaker. She was an assassin; a killer. One of Talon's very best. Why was this conversation even happening? Why was she talking when she could be fighting to the death?

'You amused me, little girl. That is all. I thrive in the dance of death, and few can push me as you did that night. I wanted to fight you again. I wanted to _feel_ something again.'

'Exactly.' Tracer shook her head, as if she had the upper hand suddenly. 'You wanted to "feel" something. You've been so warped that only bits and pieces of you have stuck around from your past life, right? Dancing? Why do you say it like that, Luv? Fancy a dance much? Maybe a touch of ballet? I mean, look at you right now. It's like something, way back in your brain, desperately grabs at what you used to be. What you _could_ be again if you let me take you in and have _our_ doc take a peek and maybe even fix you up a bit.'

A knot formed in Widow's throat, and she swallowed over and over until it dissolved at least a little.

 _Gerard…_

Her eyes blinked, and her chest swelled. Moira's toxins attempted to engulf her mind, but the stimulus before her paired with the memory's resurfacing had the upper hand for that split second. Widow's teeth chattered, and she pushed it all away, quickly readying her sniper rifle and firing one shot at Tracer's face, right between her beady eyes.

'Whoa!' The girl's afterimage remained, but she was well out of the way, shaking her finger. 'Little rude to just up and shoot at me before we're done talkin', innit?'

'…You know _nothing_.' Widow hissed, still aiming her weapon venomously.

'Then help me understand, because I ain't just leaving you the way you are. It isn't in me. It's not how I work. It's not what the people I had to leave behind would want. I joined Overwatch to save those in need, and sorry, Luv, but you're unlucky enough to land on my radar after our last barfight. Do I kinda sorta hate you a little bit? Maybe. But I can't forget the way you looked at me before you _let_ me go. I've never seen a cry for help so clearly. And I'm a hero, so that's a cry I simply can't ignore.'

'Then you're a fool.' Widowmaker needed to convince herself. She began her assault, the Widow's Kiss in assault mode and firing away atop the roof as she backed to the edge. Tracer dodged with ease, of course, but the primary objective was to create space. With Tracer, that was always the best method of attack. Her bursts of speed and twin Pulse Pistols could end even the most powerful of omnics within a single second. Widowmaker could make her shot if she calculated the girl's blinks and recalls appropriately. She would put an end to this "hero's" tale once and for all.

Nobody made her feel…like this. Nobody. She hated it. She hated it. She hated it!

Once Widowmaker felt the ledge on her heel, she jumped backward, turning midair and grappling to the building nearby. She released the hook's hold a second before reaching the new roof, and used the momentum to propel herself upward, landing and rolling behind some cover, lowering her headgear so that her multi-perspective visor could do its work. She could hear Tracer's blipping, even above the crowd's music and foolish antics, and eventually saw the girl's streak of light pass by her upper left sensor. Instinctually, Widow's mind calculated the Overwatch agent's predicted placement with all the variables in place and fired a single shot in what seemed to be nothing but the night sky. However, Tracer's body flailed midair, and she barely landed her jump approximately ten metres from where Widow was positioned, a streak of blood dripping down her left cheek.

'Hmph.' Widowmaker smirked.

She didn't miss when using her gun's sniper mode. In fact, this was perhaps one of the first times ever. One shot, one kill. It's what she was known for. It's the tagline Talon agents had attached to her. There was never a second shot. There was never a chance to think twice about the act. This girl was beginning to annoy Widowmaker. She should have never let her live. This dance was…different. No. Not a dance. This kill. Kill. Kill. Kill!

'Yikes! Almost had me there, Luv! Might have to get a little rough with you after all. Don't worry though, our doc can pretty well fix anything I do.'

'You remember how it ended last time, no?' Widow remained completely still, zooming in with her visor.

'Course I do. Not something I'm forgetting any time soon, trust me. But we know one another's tricks now, so, it should get interesting, huh?'

'I'm counting on it…'

And it began again, Widow firing off a second shot. Some form of impact was made, but it was only a graze, with Tracer practically teleporting out of view. Scoffing, Widow knew retreating anew would spell trouble for her. She couldn't move as fast as the Overwatch agent in midair. Catching her by surprise was the best method of attack at this point. Widow's reaction speed was just a touch quicker, by her calculations, and thus, she ejected a venom mine approximately seven metres behind her. This allowed the time she needed to react if Tracer tried such a tactic. Otherwise, Widowmaker took up position, kneeling with her sniper rifle at ready, her visor working its magic to provide her the ultimate perspective.

'Nobody can hide from my sight…' Widow muttered, and she was in place. This is what she lived for. A target worth hunting. An enemy so capable Widowmaker would be exalted for Tracer's elimination. Unlike the last encounter, which was furious and nearly out of control, both contenders knew who they were dealing with now, and caution was practised with the utmost of professionalism. It was like a master samurai duel of old, where the victor was decided in an instant. This battle would end similarly.

Silence. The music, the cheering, the laughing, the parading; it all faded into a muffled nothingness. Widow was made for this. Her pulse was practically non-existent. Her body hardly moved. She was a statue, all her senses focussed on what needed to be done. She was truly the black widow spider in this moment, her victim merely waiting for its head to be snapped off in less than a second.

The venom mind exploded, yet it didn't detonate. Widow almost turned, but she heard it. Almost anybody else would have overlooked the smallest of sounds, but Widow knew. She remained facing forward, and sure enough, Tracer was already nearly on her. She recalled. Clever, but just not good enough. A third shot. This time, she didn't miss. It wasn't exactly on target, for this spindly girl was good enough to twist her body mid-attack, but it connected just below her ribs. An inch or two more and the chronal accelerator would have been destroyed, taking Tracer into oblivion forever.

Tracer landed on Widowmaker, and a second later, a faint pain burst into both of the assassin's legs. Then, her arms were held on either side of her, the Widow's Kiss sliding a few feet away. Widow's thighs were oozing blood, the liquid seeping down onto the roof below her, trailing into the cracks and slipping away. When was the last time Widow had been injured thus? This was a form of ecstasy as well, nearly. Such a worthy prey.

'Hah…hah…Gotcha…!' Tracer heaved, her own blood seeping through the girl's yellow uniform, just below her bomber jacket.

'Do you?' Widow's eyes widened, and she physically overpowered Tracer, pushing her off and stumbling upward. Although her reception to actual pain was dulled, her legs still didn't function the way she wished them to because of the inflicted injury. Retrieving her gun wasn't an option anymore, so, Widow allowed herself to fall atop Tracer, sitting on her torso and wincing down at her. The agent attempted to lift her guns for a counterattack, but Widow snapped her elbow across Tracer's face, a crack sounding and the girl coughing, spitting out more blood.

'G-gah…!' The Overwatch agent squeaked, a rasp crunching through her throat.

'What was that about "saving me", little hero? Do I _look_ like I need saving? Would a damsel in distress be capable of _this_?' Widow felt her elbow connect with the girl's other cheek, the contact fulfilling enough as Tracer groaned, blood trailing down her chin now.

However, Tracer realigned her vision, and stared directly into Widow's eyes. She wasn't afraid. If anything, she seemed even more determined.

'Sorry to…queer your pitch, Luv…but right now, I _know_ you need help. I can feel it…on both cheeks…'

'Oh?' Widow's eye twitched, and she shifted her weight over Tracer's gun wound, feeling the blood soak into her leg as she did so. The Overwatch agent clenched her mouth shut, her face turning red and veins protruding from her neck. She was much, much tougher than she looked, Widow would give her that, but fury was beginning to boil. No matter what Moira's toxins wanted, this encounter was stirring something in Widowmaker, and she was not enjoying the dance she had desired so anymore.

It was time to end it. This discomfort was undesirable.

Widow batted away both of Tracer's guns and managed to retrieve her own. Her adversary, naturally, attempted to move as well, but Widow had time to stumble her way to her own weaponry while Tracer was dealing with quite the fresh damage to her person. She tried, of course, because that's how she was, but Widow was upon her, the Widow's Kiss in assault mode and pointed mere inches from the "hero's" forehead.

' _It's over_.' Widow claimed in her mother tongue. Her legs were shaking, but pure resolution held her in place. Tracer was a good opponent until the end, but she couldn't allow her to live. She really was dangerous…for reasons impossible for Widowmaker to have ever anticipated.

'Gerard…wouldn't have given up on you. And neither…will I.'

'Gerard. That name means _nothing_ to me.'

It didn't. It truly didn't. It couldn't.

'Really, Luv…?'

She didn't even know who that was.

'Truly.'

Just a man. Just a man with loose ties to a past Widow cared little about.

'If that's true, Luv…'

A man. A man who meant nothing. A man who didn't contribute anything.

'…then why do you look like you're about to cry?'

Widowmaker blinked, and a wetness came into contact with her eyelids. It startled her. She actually staggered back. What was this substance? Tears? They were a foreign matter, yet here they were. She was…feeling something? Feeling something more than the thrill of the kill? Feeling… _something_. But what? What was this? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

What…was…this…?

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

No. N-no…Not this. Not…any of this…!

Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger? Despair? Regret? Fear? Sadness? Anger?

Regret.

Regret.

Regret.

Regret.

Regret.

Regret.

Regret…!

* * *

 _She could feel it. She could feel the warmth of his neck between her palms. She could hear the gurgling between his lips. She could feel the saliva covering her hands._

 _He went to sleep next to his beautiful wife whom he loved unconditionally. She had gone to sleep next to her wonderful husband who she respected indefinitely._

 _They had both awoken faced with total strangers._

 _A Talon assassin._

 _An Overwatch agent._

 _One of them didn't leave that gorgeous mansion._

 _She could feel the precise instant when his life left him. She could see the way his eyes dimmed. She pretended it meant nothing. It almost didn't. It wasn't meant to. The experiment was a success…but also a subtle failure._

* * *

Darkness.


	24. XXIV: Mercy

Mercy

The words kept echoing in her mind.

The mission to Saint Petersburg, Russia was well underway, a large force of Overwatch agents loaded into the MV-261 Orca and already en route. Angela had even equipped her Valkyrie suit after so long, the material tight and suffocating this time. Among the Overwatch agents were some of the Grandmaster class. Soldier 76 and Horus were currently present alongside Angela, and Winston was apparently meeting the group with Genji on sight. To involve so many powerhouses from Overwatch's forces was telling. The war involving omnics in Russia was escalating, and if such a capable country fell, the rest of the world could very well follow. They were the only people who didn't require Overwatch's assistance in the first war, and yet, here Angela was, prepared to fight in one of the harshest climates the world had to offer.

And thus, the words kept echoing in her mind.

 _'I'll miss you.'_

They had nearly made her crumble. She had held herself together rather admirably, in the doctor's personal opinion, during the difficult conversation, yet when Fareeha unabashedly said those three words, Angela's composure was threatened. She had to quickly dismiss herself after admitting the simple truth, not giving her own mind time to reconsider or re-evaluate the repercussions of such a response.

 _'I'll miss you too, Fareeha. Very much.'_

"Very much." She would "miss Fareeha very much". Angela's face was burning at the thought, yet she wouldn't claim dishonesty. Even now, amidst the twelve-hour flight, she was having trouble focusing. She kept thinking of the young Egyptian woman and the time she wanted to spend with her, learning about her and figuring the younger woman out. She was severely intrigued, and she simply couldn't dismiss the connection she felt when conversing with the young Ms. Amari.

Unfiltered honesty. That's what Fareeha emitted, and Angela appreciated it so very, very much. And yet, in this moment, as she considered the interactions further, a deep sense of dread filled Angela from a multitude of angles. This was why she kept her distance so. She had said as much to Fareeha herself. She hated this sensation. Angela was going off to war. She was ever ready to die in her line of work, but now, that resolve came with an intense, growing fear because of what – or more accurately, "who" – she left behind. She wanted to survive this mission. She wanted to see Fareeha again. Even as the logical side of her brain argued with her emotions over the silliness of it all, she couldn't go back anymore.

Angela Ziegler _felt_ something when she was around Fareeha Amari, and it was something she had never, ever experienced before since…

'Angela?' Horus' muffled voice shook Angela out of her internal contemplation. Angela blinked, looking at the somewhat unsettling mask of the mysterious mother whom only a select few knew the true identity of at this point. Ana, Jack, and Angela had their own personal sector of the aircraft, closed off from the rest of the team if they so desired. Delicate matters sometimes needed to be discussed amongst the higher ups, and therefore, this particular bay was utilized as such.

'Yes?' Angela answered, trying not to give away the fact she was thinking so deeply about this very woman's daughter.

'You need to remain present if this mission is to be a success.' Ana went on, and Jack readjusted the way he was sitting in his chair.

'If we can reclaim Volskaya Industries, we'll have Russia's support…under the table, of course.' Jack's gruff voice went on. 'The recent Talon attack on the place left the cornerstone of Russia's defensive production crippled. This allowed for the omnics influenced by the God Program to infiltrate and hold position for this long. The infamous Svyatogor mechs operating systems were jammed in the same hacking attack, with the few that remained unaffected taken down by a crude recreation of a Titan. Russia is barely holding their ground, and Volskaya Industries is all but lost, serving as a mere sector to maintain position before the omnics advance further.'

'I read the mission proposal, Jack.' Angela said with a twinkle in her eye.

'Yet your mind is elsewhere, Angela. This isn't like you.' Ana persisted, and Angela hated that these two could read her so competently.

'What's going on? If you're daydreaming in the middle of a fight, it could mean a life lost.' Jack pressed further, and Angela's temple pricked.

'I understand my role, Jack. Do not worry. How many other medics do you know who are willing to fight alongside the soldiers in the heat of combat? Why, I seem to recall saving your life on numerous occasions. True, it has been some time since I've been in such peril, but I will fulfill my duty as necessary.'

Jack crossed his arms but wouldn't argue. He was that smart, at least.

'The monk will be supporting you as well. He insisted on accompanying us on this mission.' Ana nodded deeper into the aircraft, and Angela knew Zenyatta was meditating in his own private quarters. He was a force to reckon with, from what his files had stated, and Angela was interested in seeing what the omnic was capable of as a support unit alongside her.

'That's reassuring.' Angela nodded.

'If Winston and Genji are there, we'll have nothing to worry about. We'll get in, get the mission done, and get back. I don't like the idea of leaving our base so defenseless for longer than a few days.' Jack huffed.

'Indeed. But if _he's_ also there, I suspect our battle will be much more difficult, Jack.' Ana couldn't help but raise the possibility, even if Angela wasn't following the foreboding tone's implications.

'Who?' She decided to ask, knowing she needed to remain engaged.

'Gabe.' Jack answered simply, his voice thick with numerous, nulled emotions.

'I see…' Angela left it at that knowingly, deciding to change the subject promptly, for she was quite aware of how deep Jack's agony in relation to his former best friend ran. 'Will Winston and Genji be fit for combat considering the foe they failed to subdue? And what of Tracer? I read she was permitted to pursue a private mission, but the details were purposely vague.'

Jack and Ana exchanged a look, and then Ana's calm, almost soothing voice came with some answers.

'Doomfist retreated successfully, knowing he was to be defeated otherwise, so, Winston and Genji are fine. As for Lena…she was allowed to take on a particularly dangerous task that could help turn the tides of the fight against Talon in our favour.'

'And that is?' Angela asked, her patience waning.

'She's taking down Widowmaker.' Jack grunted. 'She was given some insider information and deemed it trustworthy. I was against the whole thing, but Winston made the final call, and I won't bother going against him at this point. Sounds personal to me, and that never mixes well with a mission. Lena's too valuable to risk her life like that. Widowmaker is one of their best. It's beyond dangerous.'

Angela nodded in agreement.

'It's reckless, that cannot be denied…'

'But if she succeeds,' Ana interjected. 'Then Talon loses a key player on the board.'

'And if she fails, _we_ do.' Jack quickly made clear.

'In war, sometimes great risks lead to greater victories. I won't argue with your apprehensions, Jack, because they're well-founded, but Tracer is a grown woman, and she, out of anyone, is at least capable of retreating should she feel the fight is a losing one.'

'Well…that's true enough.' Jack softened, perhaps reflecting on the young girl's abilities. 'Speaking of key players, that daughter of yours would have been a welcome addition to this mission. Her command of the Raptora Mark VI is supposedly uncanny. Got her mother's reflexes, huh?'

'Perhaps…' Ana sounded less than enthused.

'Her rank is officially getting changed to Diamond already. Not bad. She'll be a Master soon enough.'

'She needs to recover first. She was irresponsible during that mission, and hopefully has learned from it.'

'But you're proud.' Jack didn't smile much anymore, but even his lips curled into a small grin. Angela could almost see Ana's reluctance behind her expressionless mask.

'…Of course, I am.'

Angela giggled a little, although the subject of Fareeha wrenched at her chest, and her newfound focus on the mission was suddenly threatened.

'Have you decided to reveal yourself to her, then?' Angela attempted, wondering if it was a subject that she should continue prying at when it, arguably, didn't quite involve her.

'It is not outside the realm of possibility. I just need time.'

'Time isn't exactly on our side these days, Ana.' Angela countered, and the older woman didn't move as she responded.

'Then that is that. What will be will be. She seems to have adjusted well enough, if you're to ask my honest opinion.'

'I don't believe that is true. She misses you greatly. If she could show you how successful she has been as a warrior, like yourself, she would be overjoyed.'

'And again, I wonder about your insistence in this matter.'

Angela's throat tightened, but she felt a burning in her veins, and she spoke up, the prior thoughts of Fareeha spurring her forward and adding emotion to the doctor's otherwise fairly aloof involvement in such things.

'I have grown quite close to your daughter, Ana. She is important to me…as a friend.'

'You?' Jack interjected, disbelief in his voice. 'She get past that impenetrable gate you have around yourself? Hard to think it possible.'

'Oh, Jack; you're exaggerating.' Angela waved her hand, but the man went on.

'Heh. Am not. Don't think I don't know about the number of men that approached you in our organization alone. You were always by yourself, Angela. Even when you're surrounded by others, you don't open up to anyone. You're telling me Ana's kid somehow got you to let someone in? You finally have a "friend" you open up to even a little? Colour me impressed. Forget Diamond, Fareeha should be a Grandmaster for such a feat.'

'Come now, Jack. Don't tease.' Ana chuckled. 'But it _is_ curious. What has transpired between you two to develop such a bond?'

'You make it out to be something impressive, but she's simply caught my attention. Perhaps my maternal instincts are shining through. How am I to know?' Angela lied, inwardly grimacing. She hated the idea of downplaying what she knew was festering in her heart, but she couldn't be certain of Fareeha's own perspective on things, and she was ever guarded in such matters. Nonetheless, she wasn't ready to openly discuss her thoughts. Not yet.

'Oho. I hadn't thought of that. You're at the age, I suppose, although I already had a toddler by then. You feeling a form of regret for not marrying and having a child by now?'

Angela bit at her lip. It wasn't something she _didn't_ consider from time to time, but it certainly couldn't keep her up at night either. She had no desire to bring another life into the world when there were so many she had yet to save. A companion, on the other hand, wasn't a terrible concept. Traveling the world and healing those in need with a significant other by her side surely had its perks. None had ever engaged Angela's senses to consider such a route, but Fareeha made her think otherwise, and as she drew out the picture in her imagination, the woman blushed, knowing she was getting foolishly ahead of herself when she didn't even _truly_ know Fareeha in that way.

'Looks like you hit the nail on the head.' Jack was grinning again.

'T-that's not it.' Angela defended herself. 'I simply was…That is…'

'You're almost forty, Angela. Your work is important, indeed, but remember to live your own life as well. Even I managed to have a family at one point, and it is a feeling like no other. It's complicated, do not mistake my words, but it's an irreplaceable experience, that much is, without a doubt, true.' Ana's tone softened, and Angela felt as though they were the old Overwatch again. It's where she felt she belonged, to an extent, and the sensation wasn't so bad.

'I will…think about it, I suppose.' She decided honestly.

'Oh? Should I manage the line back at the base when we reveal that the infamous bachelorette, Angela Ziegler, is prepared to take on a spouse?' Jack hadn't sounded so lively in quite some time. It almost made the teasing worth it.

'No. Please don't.'

And the three agents laughed, the looming importance of their upcoming mission somewhat lessened by the realization that they were not alone, and it was back to business as some of the original saviors of humanity.

* * *

The MV-261 Orca finally landed, the various engines and humming sounds from the machines all about dying down to a small murmur. Angela, Ana, and Jack exited their quarters and descended to the main deck area where the rest of the crew was already gearing up. Russia was known for being a merciless, cold frontier, and although the weather was somewhat co-operating at this point, it was imperative that Overwatch prepare for the conditions appropriately. Jack made some minor adjustments to his gear, while Ana was just about ready as was. Angela, on the other hand, was forced to add a layer to her Valkyrie suit for, despite it being fairly thermalized, Saint Petersburg's temperature was nothing to scoff at.

'Peace be with you.' Zenyatta seemingly snuck up on Angela, being one of the few unintimidated by her position within Overwatch and the reputation that preceded her.

'And to you, Master Zenyatta.' Angela responded politely.

'Might I be partially forward with you for but a moment?'

Angela stepped to the side with the monk, thankful Jack was keeping the rest of the agents busy with instructions before they headed out into the looming fight.

'Of course. It is an honour.'

'You're too kind. That being said, during my meditation I couldn't help but feel an abnormal amount of stress and anxiety from a surprising source.'

Angela suddenly didn't like where this conversation was heading, but held her ground, only glancing to where Jack and Ana continued to mediate their soldiers.

'There are…circumstances in my life that have unexpectantly caused my mind some turmoil. I will be fine.'

'Ah. So, you are aware. That is fortunate. Enlightenment in the workings of your own psyche is the first step to acceptance and tranquility.'

'Thank-you, Master Zenyatta. I look forward to working with you in this battle.'

'Naturally.' The omnic paused, his presence nearly ethereal somehow. Perhaps it was the way he levitated instead of walked, or it may have been the glowing orbs that he subconsciously controlled with the raw power of his mind. He was a mysterious being through and through, especially as far as omnics were concerned.

'However, it may be best to contact this individual who weighs so heavily on your mind prior to the fight, for regret can be a colossal adversary, and should discord find our presence on this mortal coil, I would want to reach out to such a transcendent force in my life before it was potentially snuffed. Indeed, I know this all too well now.'

Angela's eyes fluttered, and she swallowed harshly, her neck hurting.

'Perhaps…you are right.'

'Take a moment. We do not leave quite yet. Dream a dream only you may be capable of witnessing. A butterfly is a curious thing, no? Gripped in the talons of a predator, it is even more so. Ah, but that is unrelated for now.'

'I'll be right back.' Angela returned to the sector of the ship she, Jack, and Ana had previously occupied. She took out her phone and tapped her way to the message she had started with Fareeha. The other woman replied to her teasing, but it was evident that Fareeha wasn't particularly comfortable with placing her thoughts into writing, and thus, Angela only reviewed a single-word response that, for whatever reason, made her stomach turn a little in excitement.

"Okay."

It was somehow…endearing, and Angela breathed out slowly as she began typing her message, knowing she didn't have much time left before _someone_ sought her out.

"Fareeha." Angela began, the name making her smile slightly. "I am about to head out into Saint Petersburg to help subdue the crisis the omnics and Talon have created. I will be fighting in the frontlines, more than likely, and will not be able to communicate with you again for quite some time. Thus, I thought I would quickly write you and tell you…"

What? Tell her what, exactly? What was the point of even writing this letter? This was completely illogical. How old was Angela? She was acting like a silly schoolgirl in…in…

'Tsk. There truly is something wrong with me.' Angela rubbed her forehead. Yet, despite her recognition of her own foolishness, the process of writing Fareeha was, strangely enough, therapeutic. Her fears and apprehensions were being sedated, as though a remedial medicine was working through her system. With a shaky hand, Angela went forward with the letter.

"…that I am hoping you are doing well. Ideally, I will be returning sooner rather than later. A nice, warm drink together sounds rather nice amidst this frightfully cold weather."

Angela's mouth quivered, and her pulse stirred as she decided to voice her thoughts, wondering how it would feel to be just a little more honest considering the positive effects this practise was having.

"I am also thinking of you…quite a bit. Odd, isn't it?"

Angela giggled. She couldn't send that last piece. It was too much. Too forward. Too presumptuous. They were just becoming friends. Far be it for Angela to integrate her own confusing, developing notions into the innocent interaction. Angela prepared to delete the final couple of sentences, lining up her finger with the correct buttons displayed on the screen.

'Angela. We're heading out.' Jack's gruff voice was annoyed, and it startled Angela. She covered her phone with both hands in surprise, nodding at the man with apologetic eyes.

'Of course. My apologies.'

'Don't apologize. You have a lot on your mind. I'm counting on you.'

'Yes. I will look after everyone, as always.'

Jack nodded, and he was gone. Tentatively, Angela looked back to her phone, and her whole body froze. She had accidently sent her message as it was.

* * *

It wasn't long before the entire squad was standing in what appeared to be the remains of a museum of some kind. At nearly fifty strong, Jack guided the group, and it was a relief to find Winston already conversing with someone who was clearly high ranked within the Russian army. He was a large man, but despite this, he seemed tiny when compared to the enormous gorilla.

'What's the situation?' Jack inserted himself immediately, his large rifle resting on his broad, weathered shoulders.

'Jack. Angela. Er…Shrike?'

'Horus this time, dear.' Ana corrected.

'Ah! Very good. We were just preparing to join Russia's camp. The fighting is fairly intense today, as if they knew we were coming.' Winston fixed his glasses, his breath completely visible. 'But I'm confident we can help here.'

'You understand the agreement with our government, correct?' The Russian man tried to confirm.

'Yeah. You hired some mercenaries to help and somehow won a fight that's been in a stalemate for weeks. Nobody will guess a thing.' Jack almost growled, but it was the truth. He had every right to be frustrated. Even Angela recognized the annoyance in her mind, and she wasn't as close to any of this.

'Correct. As long as we're on the same page.' The man didn't bat an eye. 'Our camp is about eight hundred feet due east. I will escort you – '

The ground shook, with nearby explosions causing the earth to tremble, dust and debris falling from the ceiling. The tremors went on, the detonations varied and scattered in the air. The various Overwatch agents hardly reacted, and this provided Angela _some_ relief. Jack didn't bring _anybody_ who was below rank Platinum.

'Let's go.' The Russian man encouraged readily.

'This will be but another trial for man and omnics alike.' Zenyatta mumbled to himself more than anything. Angela mostly followed behind Jack, Ana, and Winston, with Zenyatta staying semi-close by. She tried to remain focused but couldn't help checking her phone once when she thought she could spare a second. The ground was almost constantly shaking, with more and more explosions colliding with what should've been a peaceful, industrial part of the city.

Fareeha hadn't replied. It was fine. Angela convinced herself it was nothing to be concerned about; especially when faced with what seemed like a rather brutal fight.

'Your timing couldn't be better, I suppose.' General Albert (who's name Angela had finally overheard) admitted. 'It's never been this bad. Sergeant Zarya is barely holding her ground, and that is truly saying precisely how dire the situation has become. The omnics have never been so aggressive. Whatever they're building in there, it might be almost complete.'

'So, they're using your own facility to build something? Cute.' Jack chuckled.

'We've been locked in combat with the omnics for quite some time. We thought we had them contained in Volskaya Industries, but it seems that's precisely what they wanted. We've been trying to pry them out, but it's almost impossible to get close enough to do anything. Sergeant Zarya has come close to plucking a few omnics out, but it's like a hornet's nest. However, the moment that Titan imitation steps onto the field a retreat is almost always issued. We have no way of counterattacking that monstrosity at the moment, and they don't let it travel too far from the industries, knowing we would have the advantage further from their camp.'

General Albert was sounding more exhausted by the second. The fight was weighing on him, and Angela watched as the group neared the obvious base of the Russian army. She had seen enough of such establishments, although this particular battle was so contained for now that the Russian army didn't exactly seem hard done by, fortunately.

'It won't be a problem. This is our specialty. So long as your men and women are willing to listen to our plan, everything should be fine.' Jack's confidence was one of his strong points, and Angela remembered why the troops rallied around him so easily in the past. This man seemed invincible, and with Angela's support on the field, it wasn't precisely far from the truth.

'At this point, we're willing to try anything. These omnics are getting smarter. They're purposely dragging this out, knowing our morale and reserves are beginning to wane. The city has been mostly evacuated, just in case, and the isolation from family is trying many of our troops as more time passes.'

The earth shook again, another explosion much closer than before. They were in the Russian camp now, and Jack immediately asked General Albert to call everyone in. When one of Overwatch's finest had the attention of those directly around him, he began speaking, and Angela tried to listen attentively. She felt disconnected, and she knew that was a major problem as the primary medic for the team.

Jack reviewed the maps hastily, formulating actions for squads he created as he went. Winston contributed here and there, but this was Soldier 76's forte, and it was clear he knew precisely how to approach this situation. When Genji seemingly appeared out of nowhere and spoke quietly to the assumed leader of the new attack, Angela knew Jack's collection of information was complete, and he could put the final phases of his move into place. The ninja gave Angela only the smallest of glances, an unspoken bond between the two ever solidified.

'Their scars could carve this land into pieces aplenty.' Zenyatta hummed beside Angela, and she gripped at her Caduceus Staff, aware this was the calm before the storm. Jack likely sensed it, too, based on what General Albert had said. This war in Saint Petersburg had swollen to the point of bursting. Whatever had possessed the omnics to hold up such a facility while it was compromised was soon to be revealed, and Jack likely didn't want to give his adversaries time to do that very thing. His instincts, when it came to this very situation, were razor sharp still.

'Angela…you're with me. You know what that means, right?' Jack addressed her directly, and Angela's heart jumped. It meant she was in the frontlines. It meant she would be where the most danger lurked. It meant Jack was relying on her ability to not only heal him, but take severe damage herself in the midst of lethal combat. Angela could regenerate, to an extent, and being with Jack meant taking a few bullets or worse.

Fareeha would never approve. But Fareeha wasn't here. Thinking about her would only hurt those around Angela when she needed to focus.

'Or give you strength in your darkest hour.' Zenyatta almost sang, and it was as though only Angela could hear him, for time left the comment behind as the doctor was forced to respond.

'Of course. The titan will be our target, then?'

'Yes. We take it down, then you and I infiltrate the base. They won't expect a single man to be capable of such a thing. Infiltrating the enemy base will require extraordinary caution, everyone. Omnics have the ability to self-destruct, and that's why it's paramount you disable them, by any means, swiftly. This operation shouldn't last longer than an hour or two at most, and it will be our only chance with some element of surprise. The battle will end today…one way or another.'

'If we wait until Reinhardt and the others arrive, it might be even bet – '

'I called them off.' Jack shook his head, and Winston recoiled in sincere shock from his cut off thought.

'What!?'

'What's protecting _our_ base right now? Not much. If Talon is smart – and they are – they'll strike now, while we're dealing with this mess and Tracer is off on her own. If Reinhardt, Torbjorn, and even his daughter, Brigitte, are there, I can take care of this mission with a little more peace of mind.'

'Hm. That may be true…'

'Besides, don't you think we're stacked enough here? This is overkill.' Jack's confidence continued to fuel everyone around him, and he lifted a fist into the air, pumping it enthusiastically. He gave one powerful battle cry, and all the troops present – Russian included – responded in kind.

'His soul is aflame with the life he knew.' Zenyatta narrated, ever in tune with the subtle nuances of the humans close to him.

Angela had to agree, however, for Jack's eyes were cold and dead when he first arrived back at Overwatch Gibraltar. This fight reminded him of his purpose beyond vigilante acts of supposed honour. He was years younger again, although even his body would soon give out from the strain it was under. Angela worried they wouldn't be able to function as a unit the way they had in the past.

'Final checks. We depart in ten minutes.'

The ground shook, Zarya's fight intensifying by the second. Ten minutes. In ten minutes Angela would be truly back on the field. Back to fighting and death. Back to saving those in need. Back to furiously trying to keep everyone alive, exposing herself, in turn, to injury and pain. Her powers had decreased some. She wasn't what she once was. Her body had aged, despite the nanotechnology belying such truth. In her prime, Angela was capable of mass reviving soldiers so long as they were within a certain radius around her and their souls hadn't completely dissolved. After some time, she couldn't perform such miracles on that grand of a scale, but she could still bring back one or two men if the right scenario played out. Additionally, her Valkyrie suit allowed her flight and speed that turned her into an angel of life _and_ death. Now, she was nearing her limit. She could revive a single man within a certain time frame, but it took her so long, and she was so vulnerable during the process. She couldn't move as fast in flight. She couldn't change the tide of battle anymore. She could only heal quickly and leave herself exposed more frequently. It was frightening, but she knew it was her place. She knew her ability to heal and boost attack power alternatively was what Jack relied on to make this mission a success. Beating the titanic omnic, in particular, required her to perform her very best within the parameters available.

Angela tried to resist the urge, but when the soldiers and agents began collecting near Jack, she knew she wouldn't have another chance…perhaps ever, as morbid as it was to think about. She checked her phone, and it was a foreign feeling how much her heart sunk. She wanted to read Fareeha's words. And with this realization, Angela realized quite clearly that she had it very bad…

'You know your squads. Squad leaders, move to your respective positions with your troops. Winston, Horus, and myself are your leaders. Those of you in my squad will be rallying with Sergeant Zarya once we join the fight. At that point, Angela and I will break away to deal with the titan or, if luck is on our side, infiltrating the base ourselves and taking out whatever those omnics are working on. Again, if the titan appears after Angela and I have moved in, keep it distracted as long as possible. Genji can take it down if he has the right situation, so, just worry about staying alive. Understood?'

"Yessir!"

'Good. I have faith this mission will be a success. I trust in my team, and I _know_ , as the only country who _didn't_ need help in the first war, that Russia's soldiers won't disappoint me either.'

"Yeah!"

'Let's move out!'

And it started. Angela's suit allowed her to temporarily latch onto individuals of her choice, drawing herself to them as though a magnet was at work. She kept up with Jack in such a fashion, and only briefly glanced around at the other squads spreading out along the large expanse of industry and snow. Winston's party took the front, while Ana's flanked. Jack followed in somewhat close to Winston, and within less than ten minutes, the battle was in view, the explosions and destruction that had reminded everyone of the fight's presence completely visible in all its violent glory.

Angela hated the sight. Snow was soaked with crimson, and omnic pieces remained scattered every which way. Makeshift barriers were erected here and there, with shouting and the sound of weapons going off filling the air, echoing every which way endlessly. It was so very, very familiar, and it formed a knot in Angela's throat. Omnics of every shape and size were pouring out of the Volskaya Industries, and a single unit seemed to be keeping them at bay. A monster of an individual, who Angela could only assume to be the infamous Zarya herself, fought with such zeal it was hard to look away. Her enormous gun alternated between a deadly laser and energy bombs that caused immense destruction in its wake. She could temporarily protect herself and someone close by as well, it appeared, during strict intervals with a shield. Her personal squad was almost single-handedly holding position against the waves of enemies thanks to her careful distribution of power, but it was clear the omnics were wearing them down, and this seeming final push became that much more obvious.

Jack's pace increased, and Winston actually leapt high into the air, sensing the desperation of the fight. The incredible gorilla landed, the snow all around him exploding where he impacted, and he was tossing the smaller omnics to the side like bugs. The bigger adversaries, however, weren't so easily dealt with, and they recognized the sudden threat as lethal, directing their focus on Winston's rampaging form.

'Hiiiiya! That's good! That's good!" Zarya shouted, her accent thick, but her voice feeding her men's confidence. "Come at me!'

And, as if answering her challenge, the ground trembled, forcing everyone back immediately, even the omnics spreading out and changing formation without missing a beat.

'Hmph. This is it…' Jack grunted, running becoming more of a burden with every tremor that indicated the approach of such a massive machine of destruction. 'Boost me until I say so. Don't switch to medical support without my word!'

'Understood.' Angela nodded, feeling the weight of her own weapon in hand.

'My foolish brothers. So, it has come to this.' Zenyatta's words lingered, but he was gone suddenly, golden orbs flying all about the battlefield, obviously crippled and injured men and women showing signs of slow, progressive improvement in tandem.

The titanic omnic that appeared soon thereafter was not quite as brilliant as Torbjorn's original, but its massive size and evident firepower made it deadly enough. Immediately upon its arrival, an arsenal of weaponry was launched in the form of explosives and energy beams. Its aim wasn't precise, by any means, but its sheer size amounted to most of its destructive capability. It could simply crush anything and anyone beneath its weight, and Angela wondered if even Jack could take down such a foe. Distance was created between most of Russia's army and Overwatch's agents, but the attack wasn't let up, especially by those who had received Jack's instructions. He charged in, and Angela steeled her mind, following him into the fray and trying with all her might to dismiss any prior reservations.

Having spoken with Torbjorn about the construction of omnics and machines in general, Jack knew exactly where to strike first. His incredible aim and firepower was put to good use as he dashed about through the snow, his squad and Winston's doing everything in their power to push back any pursuing omnics. He went for the legs first, causing sparks and rapid destructive bursts from the titan. He launched helix rockets as needed and continued pumping the omnic full of pulse rifle rounds, his weapons boosted thanks to Angela's enhancements. She got a read every time his attacks landed, and the ping was constant in her mind, letting her know Jack was truly causing some harm to this monstrosity.

Still, even with all his efforts, the titan was only showing slight signs of distress, its natural shields and girth more than enough for a single man with minor physical manipulation. Not only that, but Jack's condition was worsening despite not being hit by any direct attack. He was pushing himself. He always had and always would, but his body was starting to betray him in old age. He couldn't fight the way he used to forever. He likely knew this, and that's why he commanded Angela not to switch her priorities mid-fight. He only had so much time…for many things. They all did. Life wasn't infinite. The possibilities youth allowed wouldn't be present evermore. Perhaps that's why Angela allowed such divisive thoughts even in the midst of combat like this.

'Don't switch, Angela…!' Jack hollered, and his visor flashed red, a sound buzzing into the air as though electricity was charging into his weapon. 'I've got you in my sights, Titan!'

The volley of shots that followed were inhuman. The pure accuracy and destructive power couldn't be compared to any other single person's save for perhaps Gabriel in his prime, and even then, Jack's range proved more advantageous. The titan buckled at last, its legs no longer capable of sustaining its massive weight, and Jack immediately infiltrated Volskaya Industries, leaving the rest to his capable squads and the Russian army.

'Jack…Your health.' Angela breathed, keeping up with the man and managing her abilities taxing her somewhat. His energy was waning, yet his bodily improvements allowed him to simply ignore such natural restrictors.

'I know, but this is our chance. They're pouring their resources into this last stand for a reason. We shut them down now or we might not have another opportunity to do so.'

It was true. The resistance Jack and Angela met was nothing compared to what was pushed through to the frontlines. Jack downed omnic after omnic. Even the OR14s that stood against him didn't last longer than a minute. He knew these opponents too well, and with Angela in his pocket, none of them stood a chance. It was a blitz attack at its finest, and once Jack and Angela made it somewhat deep into the industry, he finally took a moment, his breaths heavy, but his implications obvious enough. Angela switched to recovering her old friend's health, and he nodded in thanks, checking his equipment with restrained grunts.

'What are you suspecting we'll find?' Angela asked, sensing Jack's strength returning slowly…slower than ever before.

'Not sure. Not a single Talon agent present either. Makes a guy wonder.'

'Indeed. Is this just a distraction?'

'Hard to say. Better not to risk it either way.'

'Their resources are nothing to scoff at.'

'Omnics can have a field day in a place like this; especially ones influenced by that God Program.'

'…It's truly unfortunate. Speaking with Zenyatta and then seeing this…it's simply terrible.'

'Won't argue with that.'

A small pause between the Overwatch agents, Jack sighing deeply before he began speaking again, the distant sounds of fighting ever urging him forward.

'How much longer do I have, Doc?'

The question stun. Angela had been doing the evaluation in her head already the moment she noticed the strain her staff underwent to unnaturally repair Jack's wounds. She wasn't even sure she could bring him back if he went down anymore. His body might completely reject her at that point. Even now, it practically begged her to leave it be. It had shouldered too many fights. There were so many scars.

'It's hard to say.'

'Heh. That short, huh?'

Angela turned her gaze, the soft, golden hue from her healing illuminating the little alcove the agents took a breather in. They only had moments longer, Angela knew. Thus far, the operation was a sweltering success. Jack's plan was perfect. His firepower and utilization of those around him couldn't have been better. His experience and expertise led everyone to such a victory. It was only a matter of time…for this fight anyway. There would be more. Angela knew this was just the beginning of the war that had already started, the U.N.'s accepted ignorance be damned.

'It's fine. I can make it through for a little longer. Just gotta bring Gabe to his senses and then I can die in peace.'

'Don't talk like that, Jack.'

'It's how I talk now, Angela. I've changed. We all have. It's not like it was before. As much as Winston wants it to be, Overwatch will never be the same. We're not heroes. We're organized vigilantes. But that's okay. It's better this way.' Jack pushed himself up, reloading his Heavy Pulse Rifle.

'For now, perhaps, but there is hope for change. This battle is a start, wouldn't you say?'

Jack raised a brow behind his red optic visor, staring Angela down for a moment.

'Yeah. We've changed alright. Some for the better, maybe.' And he left it at that, dashing forward and continuing his rampage. His energy mostly restored, Jack took down any further resistance even more efficiently than before. Angela could hardly keep up, and sometimes had to manage her distance and safety by navigating corners and corridors perfectly while maintaining a connection. Jack was more brutal with his attacks than he had ever been in the past. There was an anger and viciousness to his movements where there had been pride and finesse before. His heart had hardened. His mind was cold. There were hints of the old Jack, but in the end, he was out for blood, and it wasn't completely uncalled for, despite how Angela generally felt about such things.

Finally, Jack and Angela made it to the seeming core of the omnic operation. A multitude of OR14 sentries guarded the point, but Jack took one out and damaged another with a single helix rocket, and then finished the rest with perfect aim, his pulse rifle's bullets penetrating the weak parts in the construct of such omnics with relative ease. The room was fairly large, with extensive mechanisms moving about, automatically working on a single omnic, presumably, in the middle. A soft, unnatural green light glowed where the various Volskayan instruments performed, their code overwritten by the omnics that had infiltrated the facility for so long.

'This it?' Jack approached the fairly grand makeshift lab.

'Careful, Jack.' Angela urged, the distant sounds of the battle outside still managing to echo into the factory.

'All this time, and they're still trying to put something together? God Program must make them dumb in exchange for pure savagery. One bullet and this thing is done.'

Jack approached the centre of the room, shooting down the robotic arms working away without missing a beat. Sparks hissed across the ground alongside the OR14's groans, and Angela stepped forward as well, instinctively switching to health support with her staff.

'What are you do – ?' Jack began, but he didn't finish. His body flew across the room, high into the sky before slamming into a wall, dropping him to the ground with a crunching thud.

'Jack…!' Angela screamed, his body's state in critical condition. 'Genji! Winston! Ana! Get in here – !'

Angela had been shot before. Many times, in fact. She had endured pain when others may have even died. She knew what agony was. Healing from a mortal wound was not a simple matter. Her body rejected the nanomachines every time, but her science always overturned natural evolution. It was _un_ natural, but that was fine with the doctor.

This pain, however…

Angela inhaled, but when she tried to breathe out, blood poured from her mouth and nose, her one eye caked shut practically.

This pain, however…

She couldn't feel her body. Her one good eye registered that her stomach had been completely blown apart. Her armour had protected her organs from spilling out completely, but just barely. She was dying. She was dying much more hastily than she had ever been in the past.

This pain…

The nanomachines hurt. They hurt they attempted to reconstruct her basic makeup so desperately. She couldn't move. As a faint, humanoid being of light approached her, she couldn't do a thing. She was heading into shock. Her mind was shutting down. It was the only choice. She couldn't repair herself otherwise. This never happened. Not to her. Not to the prodigy. Not to the Goddess of the battlefield.

This…pain…

In a half unconscious state, Angela's eye drunkenly scanned the floor. The black specks were overcoming her. They would consume her before long. Everything was shutting off. As a doctor, Angela knew precisely what her body was doing. Nonetheless, she saw a small, thin device just out of reach, its screen cracked despite not even being in the brunt of the attack.

This…

The impact had shaken it awake. The wonders of technology. The wonders of science in all its form. How could Angela think such things when death potentially approached her in the form of an unknown, seemingly sentient being? The message glowing on the screen that her mind forcibly committed to a logical transference of information shocked her nerves.

"Me too."

'I…' Angela muttered through a raspy throat, her body's repairs practically burning her insides now. Not yet. Not now. Not anymore. She was ready to accept death when the time was right for what she had done in her past, but that time wasn't now. It wasn't too late to change her perspective. It wasn't too late to grow. It wasn't too late to see the world through a different lens. She still had people to save. She still had those who needed her protection. She still had time to make medical advancements that could help the world. And not only that…not only all that which had sustained her for so long…

She still had an inkling she could find a trace of honest, intimate human companionship.

Perhaps it was selfish, but it's what put Angela Ziegler over the edge, and as she stood up, her bowels oozing and body trembling, an aura of angelic, ethereal light surrounded her, and she grasped her Caduceus Staff so tightly her knuckles cracked.

' _I…will watch over you…!_ '


	25. XXV: Tracer

Tracer

'Oi!' Lena moved without thinking. A light of pale blue followed her as she jumped to Widowmaker, the girl's body going limp and simply collapsing where she stood. Within the second, Talon's greatest assassin was cradled in Overwatch's golden child's arms, a single tear escaping from her left eye and trailing down her blue cheek.

'She's out. Just right out cold on me.' Lena shook her head. She had wanted to bring Widowmaker in alive, but she never expected to come out with such minor injuries. She supposed it wasn't over yet either, however, for without proper restraints, Widow was still a threat should she awaken. Lena needed to get off the roof of this building, which normally wouldn't be a problem, but carrying a body certainly created some issues as far as mobility went.

'A little heavier than I expected, too, Luv…' Lena grunted. Widowmaker's gear aside, she was muscular and toned, her body sculpted to perfection for all the physical demands it was put under. Lena wasn't completely different, but she was more toward the leaner side of the spectrum, whereas Widow had natural curves that remained after all the tonnage and muscular development had run its course. Lena had noticed, due to her preferences, that Widowmaker didn't exactly have the most bountiful of chests, being much smaller than Emily, but like Sombra had crudely made clear, the sniper's backside more than made up for such lacking. A horribly naughty thought passed through Lena's curious mind, but her chivalric nature easily overturned it, and she kept her hands appropriately situated.

'Right. Guess we're taking the normal way down. This is the problem with solo missions, innit? Least your outfit blends in, huh? Don't know 'bout the gun, but I'll see what I can do. Dumb to bring it. Dumb to leave it. Decisions, decisions.'

Lena managed to get Widowmaker over her shoulder enough to drag her without much difficulty while keeping a hand relatively free. She shot through the roof's entrance lock and kicked in the barricade, deciding to barely manage Widow's sniper rifle in tow. It certainly made for a more difficult trip, but she couldn't exactly leave such a dangerous weapon out in the open either.

Getting down the multitude of stairs in the apartment building wasn't quite her idea of fun as well, but thanks to Venice's festivities and avoiding the elevators available, Lena lucked out as far as meeting locals went. Getting to her personal transport wouldn't be terribly challenging either, but dealing with Widowmaker's sudden breakdown did concern the Overwatch agent. Obviously, Widowmaker had to be bound thirty minutes ago, but Lena could only do that once she made it to her vehicle. Otherwise, visiting some form of doctor was ideal, yet because of the circumstances, that brought with it a whole slew of issues Lena wasn't sure she wanted to deal with just yet either.

Once the two women were outside again, Lena took a moment to catch her breath. The noise and general activity of the partying nearby made moving through the night's shadows a breeze, but Widowmaker was getting heavier, and the fact Lena could barely feel her captive's breath was ever unsettling. She knew this was part of Talon's tampering, and it spurred her forward. Lena grit her teeth and proceeded, formulating a finalized plan and knowing she couldn't stay in Venice much longer; not when core Talon members lurked by and Sombra's network of communication was so dangerously fluid.

Although Lena hadn't landed terribly far, the trip felt worse under the circumstances. Her body was beginning to ache, and she realized how much she used her speed to make such trips seem like nothing at all.

'Big ol' normie now, right?' Lena laugh/groaned. Yet, she cut herself off when she heard what sounded like another pair of voices giggling. She took a quick intake of air, but knew she couldn't do anything more than embrace the couple that suddenly stumbled onto her path. They were wearing masks and somewhat elaborately flowing outfits, and they were falling into one another in a fashion that didn't look totally dissimilar to Lena and Widow's physical condition. Lena could only hope the concealment of night would mostly hide the wounds she and Widow housed.

' _Good night for some merry cheer!_ ' The man raised a glass, speaking in Venetian.

' _Oh! Too much to drink? Poor thing! Neat costumes though!_ ' The girl chuckled.

Lena knew quite a few languages, thanks to her Overwatch training, but Venetian was somewhat outside of her realm of expertise, so, she defaulted to English. She preferred to mingle with the locals more respectfully, but the choice wasn't available to her this time.

'Heheh! I know! You have a good night now!' It was such a basic and neutral response that it could work in most scenarios adequately enough. The couple was drunk outside of questioning too much anyway, and the girl pointed with an unbalanced stance.

'You, too! Cute couple! Make lots of love! Like us!'

'Oh! Are we making love tonight?'

'Of course! The festivities demand it!'

'Then we shall not disobey!'

And they were on their way. Lena almost worried about the sloshed pair getting to their destination, but she was in a precarious enough situation, and couldn't let her helpful tendencies get the best of her again.

'Hear that, little miss? Guess we're gonna have to do some lovemaking later. Festival rules and all.' Lena jested, although her chest flipped initially at the thought. Widowmaker was, strictly aesthetically speaking, quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls Lena had ever laid her eyes on. While Emily leaned more toward the cute or simply pretty side of the spectrum, Widow was the physical manifestation of idealized feminine attractiveness. She had a face that belonged on television, the runway, and on billboards everywhere. She had a body that women willingly paid millions for. It was all nearly intimidating to the relatively confident Lena Oxton. Still, the thought of even kissing Widow's pouty lips gave rise to heat in Lena's cheeks.

But then she would think about Mondatta. She would recall the fact this woman was Talon's perfect assassin. She would imagine Ana's death and all the other lives that had been ruined by _the_ Widowmaker. It made Lena sick.

And yet, that revulsion would be overturned by pity. When Lena learned Widow's story, her heart was vice-gripped. Her heroic nature leapt forward and wouldn't let her turn away. As the person who saw just how tormented Widowmaker was in that pivotal moment when she laughed hysterically at Lena's plea, the Overwatch agent was linked to Talon's best before she could even think of recalling away.

'Almost there, Luv…' Lena pressed on.

It didn't take much longer. Lena's little aircraft remained safely out of way, nestled in a vacant lot she had managed to scout out while making the trip. Although she hadn't anticipated being so successful, she couldn't say she was upset with how the events turned out. Widow's mental state was concerning, but at least Lena didn't have to get _too_ rough with the other woman. If Angela could just have a look at Talon's assassin, maybe there was a way to bring Amelie back. Maybe there could be a chance for this girl to have time to atone for what Widowmaker had done by helping Overwatch take down Talon and stop the second Omnic War from completely erupting all over the world.

Once Widow was laying on the floor of Lena's vehicle, Lena went to work, going into her Overwatch kit and extracting a number of items agents might use while on the job. Fortunately, when initializing the program, Jack had suggested a means to restrain persons of interest should the need arise. Gabriel hadn't thought of the necessity, apparently, but because of Jack's foresight, Lena had two basic cuffs on hand, and she locked in Widowmaker's hands first.

'Sorry about this. Haven't tried the kinky stuff myself before, but I'm pretty sure these are supposed to be fluffier. Can't have you strangling me midflight though, right?' Lena restrained Widow's hands behind her back, and then went to her ankles, admiring the way the woman's legs curved, the slight muscle intonations formed by Widow's current position distracting. Lena contemplated stripping the other girl down a little bit, considering her ballet-inspired outfit might not be terribly comfortable, but she didn't want to be too invasive. The flight wasn't awfully long anyway, and time _was_ of the essence.

'Done. Um…should be something like a pillow or whatever somewhere. Ah! There we are!' Lena cradled Widow's head, slowly removing her elaborate headpiece that had what appeared to be an image of a swan's face sculpted into its construction, and then eased Widow into the cushion provided. Otherwise, Lena made sure Talon's sniper was relatively secured between seats, not wanting her to bounce too much all over the place, nor have a simple time navigating her way to Lena while she was trying to fly.

'Yikes. This is insane, innit?' Lena sighed, pushing her hand through her short, brown hair. 'They're never gonna let this down. I can hear it already. Jack's shaking his head at me as always. "There's Lena, doing something crazy again". Yep. That's me.'

Lena looked down at Widow's sleeping face, the venom lost from it, and only a vulnerable, scared woman present now. She was just a human being that had been forcibly corrupted into a killing machine. She was physically and mentally altered beyond recognition to the point of hurting anyone against her will.

'Yeah…I couldn't leave you, Luv. Just not in me. The fact you're so bloody gorgeous is a fun boon, but I'd have done it for anyone in your situation. It's in the "how to be a hero" small print. I'll give you a read if this all works out. Deal?'

Lena grabbed at the aircraft's door, but when her phone went off, she took a moment to check the notification, worried it was an urgent message from any of her friends. Many of them _were_ on another important mission. Hopefully it was good news, if anything. What greeted Lena's eyes, however, was enough to send her mind into a frenzy.

"Hey. How badly you want to 'save' her?"

Her ears prickled suddenly, and the air was chilled. Sombra wasn't attacking her directly. It was a challenge, if anything. Lena looked around the darkness before her, only the slight lighting from nearby streets illuminating anything. A soft hiss permeated, and the shadows themselves seemed to shudder, melding and shifting within the night right before Lena's eyes.

She readied her Pulse Pistols, the comforting buzz of their loading relieving some of the stress. She saw it then, the shadows to her distant right converge into a shape, and she fired off a quick round of volleys into the blackness, only to massacre some of the building behind the forming being.

'Is that any way to treat your elders, "Tracer"?' Reaper's ghastly voice was everywhere at once, his body somehow feeling as though it was all around Lena, capable of grabbing at her from any angle. Angela's evaluation of Reaper, based on the latest reports from Jack, was that he had been genetically altered, his cells themselves experimented upon to allow for such ghastly tendencies. "He's hardly human anymore. Avoid confronting directly at all costs", was the final evaluation.

'Council party wrap-up already? Or did bad boy Gabe get sent into the hall for not playing nice?'

'…What the hell do you think you're doing? Taking Talon's broken plaything?'

'I'm going to help her. Overwatch exists to _save_ people, Gabriel. Remember? You used to believe in our cause, after all. You used to _lead_ our cause.'

It was a bad idea to antagonize Reaper, but Lena had to buy time. For what? She didn't know. If anything, the longer she stayed here, the worse off she was. Engaging Gabriel wasn't exactly her preference either, considering his incredible skill and deadly abilities, but that certainly looked like where things were heading. It was a really, really bad situation all around.

'All this for one girl? Your priorities need to be realigned.' Reaper sighed deeply, his voice modifier making every sound he exuded terrifying. The bizarre, skeleton pirate costume he had on didn't help matters either. 'Doesn't matter. One more off the list is fine with me.'

'Or you can just let me go and we both get out of this alive. Sounds like a peachy deal to me!'

A gurgling chuckle. Lena could _almost_ hear Gabriel in there somewhere, but without being told what Reaper's true identity was, she would have never guessed. He was twisted beyond recognition, _and_ by choice. It infuriated Lena, but she couldn't be sure she was able to beat him one-on-one yet. How strong had she become exactly? Could she handle someone who used to be one of the very best Overwatch had to offer the world?

'You leave Widowmaker and I'll delay your death just a little longer. _That_ is the only deal I'll humour.'

Wait. Reaper was actually willing to compromise? Did that mean he himself wasn't confident he could beat Lena in this kind of setting? Or was he showing lingering mercy on an old teammate? The latter seemed unlikely at this point, so it was the former? Really? Interesting.

'If I fight you, you know it might not end well. I'm pretty good now. I'm not a cadet anymore. Grandmaster class. Been there for a while. They send me on the tough missions.' Lena decided to feed any doubt Reaper had and remind him of what he was about to challenge.

'That ranking system was broken the moment it was created.' Reaper growled, pulling out his two Hellfire Shotguns from either side of his hips, the clicking of their loading signifying this was very likely going to happen after all. 'But I won't deny that this kill will be very, very satisfying.'

'I don't want to hurt you…' Lena said with more desperation, the reality of injuring someone that was like an uncle to her back in her early Overwatch days gouging the girl's sympathetic heart.

'Then my job just got much easier.'

'We'll be heard. You know that, right? I'm not wanted. You are. They find you – '

'I kill the authorities and move on. Nothing changes for me. Now, stop trying to delay the inevitable. You're about to die in an attempt to save a woman who would sooner murder you as well than anything else. I always thought you were foolish and headstrong, but I never anticipated this level of idiocy.'

'It's _never_ wrong to try and help someone, Gabe!'

'Right. Keep your head in the clouds, little girl. Wish I could see your face when you find out what the world is really like.'

'I _know_ what the world can be like!' Lena hollered back, anger rising in her chest suddenly. She didn't get mad easily, but the more she saw what Gabriel had become, the more frustrated she grew. 'The world took an innocent girl and twisted her into a monster against her will! If I can do something about that, I will! The world can be horrible; I'll never deny you that. But the world can also be beautiful! It can be so wonderful! Humans and omnics can be together and happy! I've seen it, and I'm fighting for that potential! I'm _not_ someone who will give up halfway through the war!'

'You would be if you were used and discarded like trash.' Reaper's voice lowered when Lena didn't even think it possible. 'You're naïve. Always have been. And, I suppose, always will be.'

'I'd rather be naïve than become a cold-blooded murderer, Gabe. How can you even look at yourself?'

A beat, with a small click sounding from Reaper's gun.

'…I don't.'

That was it. Reaper began his assault, firing his weapons one after another as he danced within the shadows. Lena could only react in kind, barely capable of tracking her opponent. Despite his somewhat unusual costume, Reaper still seemed capable of sinking into the darkness, emerging where he desired and filling the air with his lethal bullets. A few sprays clipped Lena, but her speed trumped Reaper's with ease, and she hastily navigated around the small alleyway, blinking every which way before pushing in for her counterattack.

However, she saw the barrel of Reaper's gun a second later, and barely made her recall back five seconds, leaping away and huffing tiredly, her energy semi-depleted due to the trip and having to carry Widow quite the distance.

'Heh. Still favour taking your opponent from the right. Have you grown at all?'

Lena breathed out slowly. She technically had the advantage, but Reaper's overwhelming experience tipped the scales more evenly. That, and his ability to evade physical objects at will made it very difficult to calculate when to move in without meeting his brutal weapons up close. The longer this battle dragged out, additionally, the worse for wear Lena was. Reaper knew this. He used _everything_ available to him in order to win any fight, and that's partially why his rank was one of the top three within Overwatch during its glory days.

'Bloody hell…' Lena muttered. How to approach this now? She was so close, and yet this situation wasn't presenting any viable routes out. She could scream for help, but Reaper had made it so very clear that he truly didn't care about killing innocents. The scary part was? Lena believed him. She couldn't risk casualties. Gabriel was gone. Reaper was her opponent. Don't overthink it.

'Fine. We're doing this? I'm not holding back.'

'Oh? You're suggesting you were?'

'I didn't want to hurt you, Gabe…Reaper. But I don't have a choice. You're dangerous. I've gotta do the dirty work too if I'm claiming to be a hero.'

'Heheh. Amusing. Try me.'

Lena shook her head, but slowly dug around her coat pocket. Despite what Reaper thought, she wasn't a complete moron. She had prepared for something like this. A seemingly unwinnable situation. It wasn't ideal, but she had no other choice. Fortunately, Reaper's confidence remained, and he allowed whatever tactic Lena attempted to employ. That was his one weakness, if anything. He had displayed it at the museum, and he was showing the same desire to play with his prey now. Winston had caught him off guard then, and Lena was shocked she was being granted the same liberty.

She extracted a tube and pressed the back of it. She then stabbed her arm, an explosion of power electrifying her whole body. Reaper actually flinched, likely knowing precisely what Lena had resorted to.

'I'm saving her, Reaper, and no one's gonna stop me!' Lena screamed, her body screeching as she erupted from her spot, the world becoming a blur and miniature shockwaves spurring her forward as she gunned Reaper down, blinking every which way and overturning any counterattack the man tried. Pain meant nothing. Limits meant nothing. Time and space already bent to Lena's will, to an extent, and now, even they couldn't hold the lightning bolt that was one of Overwatch's greatest down.

It was over in a flash.

Lena gasped, her guns steaming and her body wheezing in reaction. Reaper could only retreat. He didn't stand a chance, and Lena was certain she had inflicted some major harm on his person. What she did could have even been fatal, as far as she was concerned. She had stripped herself of all restraints, a portable version of Ana's nano boost completely overturning any biological limits temporarily.

'No time…to lose…' Lena muttered, her vision doubling. She knew how brutal the aftershock could be, and now she had to fly? The nap she would need once she made it back to Gibraltar was falling quickly into the "epic" categorization. Still, she had somehow managed to evade Reaper's attack. Best move out immediately before more of Talon's big bad agents decided to show up.

Lena stumbled her way to her little aircraft, rubbing her eyes and sighing in regular intervals. At least Widowmaker was still out, it appeared, because dealing with her now, should she decide she wanted to struggle – and why wouldn't she? – would just be beyond Lena's capabilities.

However, the second Lena managed to check on her "guest", she was met with two yellow, soul piercingly lethal yet still somehow beautiful, eyes. _The_ Widowmaker was awake, and she looked anything but pleased.

'Brilliant…'


	26. XXVI: Pharah

Pharah

The kickback gave her some comfort. The echo of the shot was a familiar sound. The smell brought her back quite a few years when she fired her first gun.

It had barely been a day and a half since Angela officially left. Within that timeframe, not so long into it, Fareeha had received another text from the doctor. It hadn't been expected. In fact, Fareeha wondered if she would hear anything from the important Overwatch member for quite some time. She had, at the very least, their "date" to look forward to, but even that seemed intangible with every passing minute. Besides, would Angela have time for something so silly with the second Omnic War brewing the way it was? Somewhat doubtable. And yet, the text came to Fareeha as she was just starting to feel capable of moving around again outside of her bed in the medical wing.

' _Fareeha. I am about to head out into Saint Petersburg to help subdue the crisis the omnics and Talon have created. I will be fighting in the frontlines, more than likely, and will not be able to communicate with you again for quite some time. Thus, I thought I would quickly write and tell you that I am hoping you are doing well. Ideally, I will be returning sooner rather than later. A nice, warm drink together sounds rather nice amidst this frightfully cold weather. I am also thinking of you…quite a bit. Odd, isn't it?_ '

It was unexpectantly long. Angela didn't seem the type to waste her time on such things if she wasn't sincere about the act. Thus, Fareeha concluded that it wasn't mere pleasantry; particularly the ending statement. To say Fareeha couldn't think of resting after that was something of an understatement. She read the message a few times, flipping about her bed restlessly for hours, perhaps. Eventually, she had managed a reply, but writing her thoughts and feelings had never been her strong point. In fact, she could barely voice her ideas without being overly curt or sometimes insensitive. Therefore, one of Overwatch's newest rising stars simply responded with a "Me too", which felt a little plain, but hopefully got enough of the message across.

So, _this_ was what it was like to be truly interested in someone. Fareeha had had a crush or two growing up. As a very young girl, when Overwatch was in its glory, Reinhardt was the man Fareeha would marry. Angela had been around then, too, but she could barely be restrained to pose for a picture she was so dedicated to her studies and becoming an eventual legend in the medical world. Now that Fareeha thought about it, she smiled a lot then, too, but young Fareeha could never see past the façade. She lacked the ability to read social rhetoric even now, but because of the raw experiences they had dealt with together upon reuniting as women fully grown, Fareeha could at least grasp that Angela had quite the wall around her intimate personality.

Not another word came from Angela since that moment, however. Fareeha had sent the text, practically confessing to thinking of Angela "quite a bit" as well, which was nerve-wracking at best, but nothing came. Upon finally finding rest and awakening the next day, Fareeha's anxiety only increased tenfold. She knew Angela was in a war, and she knew it was foolish to expect time to be made for her, but she didn't have access to any updates regarding the mission, and the fear that something may have happened to Dr. Ziegler was a parasite within Fareeha's soul, only growing larger and more venomous with every passing hour of silence.

In the end, the inability to calm her mind naturally brought Fareeha to the present; that is, to the shooting range built within Overwatch Gibraltar. She was quite good with a gun, if she were to be honest. Her marks during the preliminary ranking in Overwatch were far above average for marksmanship. It was a good thing she wasn't being graded now, however, for her aim was notably off, and she knew precisely why. Still, the act helped. It was meditative. Fareeha would likely hit the onsite gym to workout a bit as well, because she knew how beneficial that could be for a troubled mind.

For now, however, there was nobody in the shooting range, surprisingly, and Fareeha revelled in the seclusion. She didn't want to associate with anybody right now. She just needed privacy to handle these new emotions as competently as she possibly could. Stressing about Angela's wellbeing was pointless. Logically, nothing was gained from worrying. Fareeha knew this. And yet, the act of forgetting about the woman was impossible.

'I'm acting like a child…' Fareeha grunted to herself, firing off another few rounds and skimming her fake opponent's ear, shoulder, and waist.

'Damn it.' Fareeha went on, the frustration building. If only she hadn't been injured. She could have been on the mission _with_ Angela. She could have been by her side. She could have protected her. She could've made certain that the angel of Overwatch made it back alive, and then, they could finally have that now seemingly infamous drink and get to know one another better. Fareeha wanted to talk with Angela. She wanted to hear her voice. She wanted to know what she thought about anything and everything. It was so silly, but the scenes wouldn't leave her be.

And then, the worst-case scenario would grip at her heart: what if Angela didn't come back?

Fareeha unloaded her clip, the clicking of her gun signifying she was done with this particular round.

'My God! There is _no_ way this is Ana's daughter! This aim? An insult to the Amari name!'

Fareeha started, practically jumping out of her sports gear that clung to her built body so firmly. She lifted her safety goggles, and blinked rapidly, shaking her head as she recoiled at the sight of another living legend; one that had a very special place in the young woman's mind, heart, and soul.

Reinhardt Wilhelm. The shield of Overwatch. The man who laughed in the face of Death at any given opportunity. Out of everyone in Overwatch, and besides Ana herself, this beast of a man was the one Fareeha admired the absolute most growing up. She had faint memories of his boisterous persona as a child, but seeing him now, after everything he had accomplished, and after staring at his poster Fareeha cherished as a little girl for so many years, Fareeha found herself speechless, unable to process more than the fact she was, indeed, awake and not dreaming.

'I think the cat's got her tongue.' A young girl claimed somewhat sassily. She had auburn hair, and was holding a rather large feline herself, her build solid, and the way she carried her person as a whole showing signs of discipline and strength.

'I have that affect, one could say.' Reinhardt shrugged confidently.

'I-I'm sorry. It's just…I wasn't expecting to see you. Here. Right now.'

'I didn't exactly sneak in.' The man paused. 'Did I?' He looked to the girl with honest confusion.

'Um. No.'

'Ahem. Well, then. Sounds like you were deep in thought, hm? Just like your mother after all! Her concentration was something to marvel. But enough of that! I remember when you were yay high. Now you're a real woman! Heard all about that mission in China! But the question is: do you remember me, little Fareeha?'

His voice was comforting, and his mannerisms immediately warm and inviting. Fareeha couldn't help but smile, and her eyes burned with a strange montage of familial acceptance and nostalgia. Her feelings were raw because of the thoughts that haunted her concerning Angela, but Reinhardt's presence helped so very, very much.

'Of course, I remember you, Reinhardt. You're as gallant and inspirational as ever. In fact, have you grown even more powerful? You seem…larger.'

'Hahahah! No, no. It's the scars, you see? They make any man appear that much more intimidating. This old body has been through much, but here I am. Can't say "no" to a good fight, can I?'

'That certainly hasn't changed.' Fareeha grinned, giving the girl near Reinhardt another quick glance.

'How rude of me! Ana would have had my head by now! This is ol' Torbjorn's little girl, Brigitte. She also happens to be my squire! Making this soldier and her father proud, I tell you. Can handle herself in a fight _and_ fix almost anything up at this point, right?'

'Well, not everything, but I try!' Brigitte nodded, sizing Fareeha up, it seemed.

'A pleasure, Brigitte.' Fareeha extended her hand, and the other girl took it, gripping hard and forcing Fareeha to return the pressure so that her hand didn't get crushed.

'Oh! Very nice!' Brigitte released, tossing her hair a bit. 'She's a strong one, too.'

'Of course! You might not remember, but her mother was one of the legends. Best sniper in the world, they called her.'

'So you've said, Rein.' Brigitte's playful expression softened as she bowed slightly. 'I'm sorry for your loss, by the way. I'm sure she would be crazy proud of you.'

'Thank-you.' Fareeha shook the instinctual depression away. 'It's an old wound, at least. I'm doing better these days.'

'Then care to explain the emotion that was behind that spasm of gunfire?' Reinhardt's lip upturned a bit, and it would have been comical if Fareeha wasn't stressing to figure out how to explain herself.

'I…wanted to go on the mission to Russia. It seemed important, and I just wish I could have helped.' It wasn't a complete lie.

'Hmm. I understand that. We were originally to be joining the fight as well, but Jack called us off, the stick in the mud he is these days. Brigitte here was ready to show what she was made of, but your maiden battle will have to wait, little lady.'

'It's fine. I'll have my chance, I'm sure. I can always help dad with all those upgrades he was going on about for the base. Sounded like fun!'

' _Or_ you could spar with me to work off the stiffness from the trip here, huh? Huh?'

'Pass. We just got here, and there's a lot to do, I think. We can always spar tomorrow.'

'Feh. Then I will see what Fareeha here is made of!'

Fareeha snapped to attention, knowing she was both honoured and a little terrified to even humour the idea.

'I-I'm still recovering, but perhaps in the near future.' She declined politely.

'Bah. To think I would be rejected so.'

'You'll survive.' Brigitte patted the man's enormous shoulder, and Reinhardt just kept shaking his head. 'Anyway, happy to meet you, Fareeha. I hope we get to see more of one another here and there, although I think Dad's going to be working me to the bone for the first little while.'

'If I can help, let me know.' Fareeha decided she liked Brigitte. They were a little similar, from what Fareeha could tell, and that was always nice to discover.

'You got it. Don't think it'll be easy work though, because – '

"This is an urgent message to all Overwatch medics currently on duty." Athena's voice sounded over the intercoms, which caused Fareeha, Brigitte, and Reinhardt to stop all further discussion. She was an A.I. program, but somehow she sounded distressed, perhaps because of her word use and the personnel she was directly contacting. "Please be prepared to receive the team from Russia. There are a multitude of individuals who require minor first aid, and one in ongoing critical condition. Our facilities are required. This is an urgent message to all Overwatch medics currently on duty…"

'They have returned sooner than expected! We only had to wait a day and so. Perhaps Jack was right after all! I'll never tell him though.' Reinhardt's voice was louder than ever, likely because he was excited to see his friends after so long, but Fareeha's throat tightened, and she checked her phone one more time in case she hadn't heard the notification that signified Angela's reply.

There was nothing.

Now, there was always the possibility Angela's device had been broken in the fight, or she was so busy helping the injured she didn't have time to say anything to Fareeha. Hell, Fareeha would be relieved even if Angela simply didn't want to associate with her anymore. As long as the doctor was fine. As long as she wasn't hurt. As long as she wasn't the individual who was in "ongoing critical condition".

'You okay? Look like you saw a ghost or something.' Brigitte asked, but Fareeha was already leaving.

'I need to help.' Fareeha answered, her temples pounding suddenly. What was this feeling? This dread? This fear? Instinct? Paranoia? Fareeha didn't have the answer, but all she knew was, before she could understand what her body was doing, she was jogging. Running. Sprinting. Her muscles recoiled in frustration, having just found some form of recovery after her injuries, but none of it mattered. She burst through Overwatch Gibraltar, catching more than a few confused glances. Bradley even called out to Fareeha, but his voice was a distant sound within seconds.

Her breaths came in rasps, but Fareeha pushed and pushed and pushed, ignoring any restrictions her muscles attempted to enforce. She needed to know. She had to know if Angela was alright. It was borderline lunacy, but she couldn't stop herself.

' _I am also thinking of you…quite a bit. Odd, isn't it?_ '

A child. She was acting like a child again. Would she ever grow out of such fixations? No. This was different. It was all so very, very different. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before in her life. A crush? Perhaps that was the only way to describe it. Maybe it was time to openly admit as much. Fareeha didn't care anymore. The fear of any harm coming to Angela overrode further reservations. She would take the pain upon herself in the doctor's stead without hesitation. She would be satisfied just seeing Angela's gentle smile one more time.

 _Please be okay. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please._

She stopped, finding a crowd already gathered about the MV-261 Orca. Athena's announcement stirred the curious, and Fareeha didn't attempt to play nice. She shouldered her way through the various agents gawking, claiming she was specifically called for by Winston or Jack. She didn't care. She just needed to see Angela helping the wounded as diligently as she always did. Fareeha would back off right then and there. Her height allowed her to scan the area easily, and finally, she made out Winston's massive form, and near the new leader of Overwatch was Jack, the omnic, Zenyatta, Genji, and a masked soldier of some descript. They were all moving quickly; frantically. Jack parted the crowd, a slight limp to his step. They were pushing a stretcher, and the gathered people split like the sea until Fareeha saw the individual being cared for.

Her heart stopped, the world around her freezing and turning grey. Her mind didn't believe it, at first. It took a second or two for Fareeha to bring herself back to reality and commit to the truth before her.

Angela was the one in the stretcher. An oxygen mask was over her face, her form completely covered.

Her body moved again. Fareeha pushed through the remaining crowd until she was upon Jack and the rest of the head Overwatch members.

'Fareeha! What are you – ?' Winston began, but Fareeha had already taken hold of one of the stretcher's grips, helping push it along.

'What can I do?' She asked desperately, her eyes already glistening as she saw the marks on Angela's sleeping face. She was so pale. She looked beyond ill. What was happening to her? This wasn't natural.

'We did everything we could.' Jack grunted, still waving his arm to create more of an opening in the crowd so a small transportation vehicle was capable of meeting with the group. Upon the cart were a couple members of the medical team, evidently, and an agent. 'But she pushed herself to save us all. She stopped that thing from wiping us out until re-enforcements arrived.'

'Her life teeters on the brink.' Zenyatta hummed lowly, clasping his hand into a fist with a hollow chime sounding as he did so, a faint, glowing aura abandoning Angela's form, making her complexion even more unpleasant.

'Leave her to the experts, Fareeha. There's nothing we can do now.' The masked agent spoke calmly, the muffled voice making Fareeha's ears perk.

'…Can I go with her?' Fareeha asked regardless, but the vehicle was already racing through Gibraltar to the medical wing. There was a collage of mumbling and conversation all around, and more agents were picked up from the arrival point, their injuries not nearly as bad, considering they were mostly dealt with on site in Russia, presumably.

'Come with us.' Jack ordered suddenly, and when Fareeha couldn't find the will to respond or even move, Winston's gentle hand touched her back, guiding her zombified state to the main tower. Fareeha was in a cloud, the image of Angela's visage haunting her eternally. She didn't even realize she was in the commander's sector of the tower until Jack addressed her directly again.

'Good to see you're up and moving around, Fareeha.' Jack started.

Fareeha blinked, looking at her surroundings dazedly. Computers strewn about with various scientific instruments, a jar of half-empty peanut butter, a tire hanging from the ceiling, machines picking and prying at who knew what, a space suit only an enormous gorilla would fit into.

Jack. Winston. Torbjorn. Reinhardt. Brigitte. Zenyatta. Genji. And the masked agent. When had everyone arrived?

"Angela Ziegler's condition remains in critical. Doctor's are unable to adjust to her body's complex demands. Analyzing now. Estimated analysis complete in thirty minutes. Patient's vitals in critical condition. Neural response in critical condition. Brain activity – "

'Thank-you, Athena.' Winston silenced the A.I. 'Let us know if the situation changes.'

"Affirmative."

'What the hell happened?' Reinhardt demanded, anger in his voice now.

'Easy, boy. Jack's getting to it.' Torbjorn grunted, although he looked anything but pleased as well.

'It was beyond Jack's control. There was no way he could have anticipated what we would encounter in Volskaya Industries.' The masked individual claimed.

'It's fine. It _is_ partially my fault, and I'll take responsibility should anything happen to Angela.'

'Oh, will you now?' Reinhardt pushed. 'And how do you plan on doing that?'

'Enough, Reinhardt.' Winston interjected. 'What we encountered was a new type of omnic that required an incredible amount of resources to create. We believe this initialization was a testing ground for further development, but a prototype is just that, and mass production of such monstrosities will take time. I uploaded the data we gathered following the battle to Athena's network, although Ms. Zarya didn't leave me much to work with when she was done with the foe.'

A 3-D image projected before the group from the middle table with a fragmented picture of what appeared to be a fairly average omnic, but it's normally exposed skeletal framework was covered in a smooth substance, making the being appear to be more human than not. It was alien and almost uncanny by nature, and didn't even look overly threatening, but…

'This is what hurt Angela?' Fareeha needed to confirm, her brow furrowing.

'Yes. Its power isn't anything to underestimate. Sent me clean across the room and put our own Angela in the hospital. Her nanomachines are barely keeping her alive. Any normal person would have been lost thrice over. She's a tough girl. I always knew she was, but today she proved it more than ever. I've never seen her fight so hard. Impressive, really.' Jack and the rest of the group were paying close attention to Fareeha now, and the masked person stood up, approaching her while extracting what appeared to be a cellular device from her pocket.

'Which brings us to you, Fareeha. Angela's phone was recovered from the site of combat, and we noticed her last text message was directed to yourself.'

Fareeha's chest tightened at the thought.

'You've become quite close to our Dr. Ziegler, it seems.' The mysterious woman continued. 'She keeps her thoughts and feelings locked away from everyone, really. But this message suggests a rare case of friendship between you both. Would that be a fair conclusion?'

Fareeha nodded slowly, wanting to go to the woman even more now.

'I was sent to recruit her by Winston, and we…connected. I was star struck, at first, but as I got to know Angela better, a friendship formed that I didn't think was terribly unique until recently.'

'What is this you are all saying? Angela is kind and loving to everyone! Why, there is no silly lock or what have you. No need to put poor Fareeha on the spot.' Reinhardt raised his hands in confusion, but Brigitte nudged him softly.

'Social tact was never your strong suit, I'm afraid.' She broke the news bluntly.

'Bah!'

'Exactly. Angela may have fought the way she did partially because of this bond she feels with you. It's the only explanation that somewhat makes sense. Zenyatta here said as much, anyway. I think it's a bit farfetched myself.' Jack continued to explain, and Zenyatta stepped in finally.

'Her thoughts were in confused turmoil prior to the mission. Her emotions so raw that I could vividly see the colours emanating from her soul. I offered words of encouragement, and she was, perhaps, fortified to contact that very source of muddled contemplation. Thus, the message soon delivered thereafter, one may assume.'

'You're special to her.' The masked woman concluded. 'And after the initial medical work is done in private, we want you to be the one to watch over Angela as she recovers. It's all we can offer our friend when every other method has been exhausted.'

Fareeha stood up then, energy and colour returning to her physical presentation.

'I will accept that mission with honour.' She answered in relief. Although some embarrassment regarding her and Angela's relationship started to surface, that same relationship was, fortunately, merely seen as a deep friendship, and Fareeha was fine with such an assumption. Currently, that's all it was…if that. Perhaps it was all it ever would be. Fareeha wouldn't entertain her deeper desires at this exact moment. She simply wanted to be by Angela's side in her time of need, and the opportunity was presenting itself sooner than she dared to anticipate.

'Good. Thanks. Meanwhile, we need to review the data about this bizarre omnic. Once you're fully recovered, you'll be helping on the more difficult missions going forward. Being able to keep your distance while fighting these things is key. We'll update you later.' Jack sounded a little relieved.

'Affirmative.' Fareeha saluted, anxious to leave, but honoured she was being taken so seriously now. Not only that, but she was trusted with Angela's life; that felt good.

'Athena?'

"Yes, Winston?"

'Fareeha Amari is on her way to keep an eye on Dr. Ziegler. Please let the medical team know that she has been granted access.'

"Of course."

'Thank-you.'

'I shall escort her.' Genji's soft voice spoke up, and Fareeha was taken aback by the sudden offer. He kept to himself and in the shadows in most situations, so Fareeha could only wonder about his motives. She didn't know as much about this member of Overwatch, and he wasn't exactly approachable.

'…That should be fine.' The masked woman submitted, sounding unsure. She approached Fareeha, handing her Angela's cellphone, which Fareeha accepted gratefully. The screen was cracked all over, with blood smudged within the damaged parts. It was a wonder the device still worked, and Fareeha gripped the thin piece tightly, trying not to let tears completely fill her eyes.

'I'm going now.' She announced. 'She needs me.'

'Thank-you, Fareeha. Really.' Winston said sincerely, and the others seemed to mimic his gratefulness in various ways. Fareeha nodded with fortitude, and was then on her way, Genji's somewhat strange presence right next to her as she made the trip to the medical wing of Overwatch Gibraltar. There was silence during the speed walk for the first minute or two, but then Genji finally spoke up.

'Dr. Ziegler is very important to me, Fareeha. You know this?'

'I didn't.' Fareeha answered honestly, a pinch grabbing at her stomach.

'I live because of her. To say I am indebted would be a sorry misunderstanding. She is my savior.'

'She's many peoples' savior, from what I understand.' Fareeha didn't want to sound rude, but there was an edge to her voice she herself didn't like.

'Indeed…'

'Is there something else?' Fareeha asked, calming her voice actively.

'Not exactly.' Genji muttered. 'I just…She is thought about often by myself. That is all.'

'Right.' Fareeha bit at the inside of her mouth. Was Genji romantically interested in Angela? And if so, what did that mean for Fareeha? Nothing. Nothing at all until Fareeha knew Angela Ziegler was okay. Her petty feelings meant _nothing_ in this moment.

'I only ask that you look after her. May I trust you in this matter?'

Fareeha was almost insulted, but she also knew Genji (or anyone in Overwatch, thankfully) had absolutely no idea how she actually felt about Angela. Fareeha barely knew the exact extent of her affection herself.

'You have my word.'

'Very well. Thank-you.'

And he was gone. It was an incredibly short conversation, but Fareeha took a moment to evaluate the exchange as she neared the medical wing. The "social rhetoric" of the discussion wasn't especially clear, but Fareeha began to wonder if Genji wished _he_ was the one overlooking Angela's recovery…the same recovery that Athena had deemed "critical" in its condition not an hour ago. The roles had been reversed. They needed to stop meeting under such circumstances.

Fareeha entered the medical wing and proceeded to the urgent care sector, swiping her I.D. card and being allowed access as Winston had requested. She held her breath, proceeding into the facility and finding Angela connected to monitors and various life-support devices that only a state-of-the-art facility like Overwatch Gibraltar could afford. The multiple sources of beeping unsettled Fareeha, and she gripped Angela's phone, tentatively stepping closer to the woman.

'She's finally stabilized, but her body is under a great deal of stress. We've done everything we could for now, but do not hesitate to call us should anything alarming occur. Her nanomachines are rebuilding what a normal human's body could never hope to accomplish. She is a walking miracle, as always.' One of the nurses reported.

'This could take some time. The chair can fold out into a bed. There are drinks and snacks in the fridge. Your dedication to your friend is admirable, Fareeha Amari. We will be making our rounds now. Regular check-ups will occur every thirty minutes. Thank-you again for your time.' The lead doctor let himself and his assistants out once Fareeha gave them confirmation. She couldn't find her voice easily, but it was fine. They were busy enough as it was.

Fareeha brought the chair close to Angela, her fingers tingling and her throat tangled. She leaned in close to Angela, seeing that at least some natural colour had returned to her face. Dark rings remained under her eyes, however, and her hair was down from its usual ponytail, messy and greasy. Her breaths were short and laboured, her neck having periodic spasms causing her face to twitch in a frightening way. The beeping all around stuttered when the blips in her body occurred, and Fareeha assumed the unnatural mannerisms to be the nanomachines doing their work.

'I'm here…Angela.' Fareeha whimpered, doing everything in her normally stoic mind to maintain some form of composure. She reached out with her numb hand and touched Angela's hair, stroking some loose bangs to the side and having a bizarre sense of déjà vu. She felt as though she was vandalizing the doctor then, and retracted her touch immediately, simply staring at the angel of Overwatch and biting down on the bottom of her lip in frustration.

'Hm.' Angela grunted suddenly, and Fareeha suspected her to be making sounds in her sleep, but her eyes soon scrunched just barely open, and the tiniest of smiles attempted to play out across her pained face.

'Angela…!' Fareeha exclaimed, consciously keeping her voice down but feeling as though the pounding of her heart could wake the dead.

'We're…quite the pair…aren't we?'

'Y-yes. Yes, we are.' Fareeha wiped her eyes, beaming from ear to ear. 'But…shouldn't you rest?'

'Quite.' Angela tried to giggle, but it came out as a rasp, and she scowled. 'However, resting would mean…missing this chance.'

'Chance?'

Angela grinned slyly, but then a little colour found her cheeks, and she glanced away without truly wanting to, surely.

'To see you…of course…'

The comment brought to Fareeha a wave of joy that coursed through her entire body. She couldn't respond right away, and her mouth hung open awkwardly.

'Although I suppose…it might be just me.' Angela muttered sourly, but in her lovingly teasing way.

'N-no. I mean, I just…don't know sometimes.' Fareeha started, gathering her courage and thoughts. 'I…I wanted to see you, too. That's what I meant to say.'

'Oh…' Angela glanced all around furtively. 'Quite…the effect…'

'Effect?'

'It is…nothing.'

Fareeha blinked, but couldn't decipher more beyond that. She was so very thankful that Angela was well enough to talk – if however straining it seemed – and even more relieved to know that whatever she was feeling herself and from Angela wasn't a complete lie. It wasn't a fantastical notion a mere fixation was warping into within the confines of a singular mind.

'May I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?'

'I am…rather thirsty, but my body…'

'It's fine.' Fareeha stood up, rushing to the fridge and extracting a fresh bottle of water from it. She twisted off the cap, and sat back down, holding the beverage with a vice grip and shuffling in just a little closer. 'Is it okay?' She asked, indicating that she was willing to serve Angela as needed.

'Please…' Angela answered, partially keeping her mouth open and angling her head slightly.

Fareeha tried not to become fixated on the woman's alluring lips, and diverted her focus, touching Angela's chin gently and easing the water in. She could see Angela's neck swallowing, and again, it was a strange point of interest for the young woman attempting to assist.

Suddenly, however, Angela's nanomachines kicked in once more, and she twitched, causing some water to splash over her. Fareeha quickly used her hand to wipe the remnants up, feeling the warmth of Angela's skin returning just so.

'How…embarrassing.' Angela admitted.

'It's fine. Really. You've been through quite the ordeal.'

'I couldn't…let you have all the fun, could I?'

'I would've rather you did, Angela.'

'At this point…I might have to agree with you.'

'I'm glad you seem to be doing well.'

'Yes. I'm past the worst of it…seemingly. I will need to do some work on my body, however, for…for I can tell I've lost a great deal of my…healing capabilities…for the moment.'

Fareeha loved talking with Angela, but she could tell the woman was pushing herself, and she couldn't continue to be greedy.

'No, Fareeha.' Angela spoke up suddenly. 'I _want_ you here. It…it helps.'

'Am I so obvious?' Fareeha laughed.

'Very.' Was the confident response.

'Then I will stay.'

'Please do.'

A beat, but then Angela turned her face so she could look directly at Fareeha. Their eyes met, and there was a silent exchange Fareeha herself couldn't hear. She wondered if Angela could. The other woman began speaking, regardless.

'A favour…for the dying?'

'Don't talk like that.' Fareeha responded sharply.

'My apologies. A crude…joke.'

'But yes. Anything within my power.'

'I… _do_ need to rest, it seems.'

'Good girl.'

'However…' Angela hesitated, closing her eyes. 'Might you…simply rest your hand…on my shoulder as I do so?'

'I-I can.' Fareeha's mouth was already dry, and she was now forgetting to breathe.

'Subconsciously knowing you're here…it will help, as the others have likely ascertained…based on your presence…'

'I'm not going anywhere.' Fareeha managed to feel Angela's shoulder, its delicate, soft placement under her touch making her spine shiver.

'Heheh…' Angela coughed, yet she moved her body slightly, as if savoring Fareeha's touch. 'Thank-you…'

'Of course. It's nothing.'

'It's not…nothing.' Angela hummed, her words trailing off already. 'It's deserving…of a reward, one might say…'

'Being able to comfort you in your time of need is reward enough for me.'

'Ever the charmer…' Angela breathed out calmly, perhaps feeling safe with Fareeha so obviously close by. The young woman hoped so anyway. 'Here is another gift for your service, however. A piece of honesty…from a woman who tries to hide such things so…'

'Angela…?' Fareeha couldn't be sure what was coming, but she steadied her mind for whatever it may be.

'It's only fair, and I am feeling somewhat…as delirious, perhaps…'

'I don't understand, Angela.'

'I don't either, to be…perfectly honest. But…I shall admit this, at least, yes?' Angela cracked her eyes open one last time before giving her body over to rest and recovery for hours more. 'I also…think…you're beautiful.'


	27. XXVII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

'I'm saving her, Reaper, and no one's gonna stop me!'

The sounds that followed the claim brought Widowmaker slowly back into reality. She was disoriented, and attempted to analyze her surroundings as she groggily reconnected all her senses. Her body was heavy. Her mind was in a cloud. She could feel her pulse ever so slowly circulating.

It was hard to focus with all the noise outside, and the intensity of whatever was happening pinched at the assassin's receptors, causing her fingers to twitch. It was in that moment Widow discovered that she was bound, and she suddenly felt much more aware of her position. The exclamation beyond her place of captivity…It was that girl wasn't it? Tracer?

Who was she going to save? Widowmaker? Was Widow captured and Tracer trying to rescue her? No. It was more likely that the girl had cuffed her herself. Ah. So, that was it. She was still going on about such foolishness. Such idiocy. Such…

Widowmaker's brain pulsated, and a stabbing pain punctured her skull, piercing into her right eye and ravaging her mind. She convulsed, practically feeling Moira's toxin pouring through her veins and strangling any semblance of emotion. She winced, but didn't cry out, refusing to give the scientist such satisfaction despite her being nowhere near.

But what did it matter?

What did any of this matter?

The fighting outside ceased, and in only a few more seconds, Tracer herself stumbled to the opening of what must've been some form of vehicle. When the girl saw that Widowmaker was conscious, her fatigued expression only intensified, and she shook her head partially.

'Brilliant…' She muttered, eyeing Widow with whatever energy she had left, it appeared.

Widow wasn't in a state to do much else but endure the discomfort her body was experiencing. Her face scowled in response to the pain, and she met Tracer's wide, pure eyes with her own cold, antagonizing ones. When this wave passed, she would make her escape. Tracer had obviously been in some form of fight that drained her, and that meant Widow had the upper hand…somewhat. She herself wasn't in the best of shape either, she supposed.

'Look…I just wanna help you, okay? Talon made you into a killer, and I really can't let that slide; not when I've seen how scared and confused you can be.' The girl tried to reason.

Widowmaker barely heard her. The ringing in her ears was deafening, and her bloodthirst began to eat away at her stomach. This was very different from the numbness Widowmaker had lived with until now. Moira's drug was growing stronger, and it was taking the sniper's final sliver of humanity with it.

'Our doc is super skilled. Seriously. She'll fix you up right in no time; I know it.'

Widow grit her teeth, rolling onto her other side and realizing her head was being cushioned by something soft. To have such consideration for the enemy? This girl was insane.

'Oi. No way I should fly right now, but we gotta get outta here. Winston's gonna have my head if he finds out I piloted anything feeling like this.'

It wouldn't take much to get her arms out from behind her, and then she could subdue Tracer and procure the aircraft herself. Rendezvousing with Akande and the rest wouldn't be terribly difficult, although Widow would have to explain how her headpiece was destroyed. A small price to return to…to…

'You okay, Luv? Figured you would've tried something by now. Head still hurting? I don't wanna do anything nasty to keep you safe until we get back to base, but I have a feeling I don't have a choice, right? You thinkin' about how to get away from me again? I'm not used to chasing the ladies like this. They kinda come to me most of the time, you know? Hm. Guess not.'

This girl certainly liked to talk. It was doing nothing for Widow's agony. The waves of torture usually passed given enough time, but this particular attack wasn't letting go when Widow needed it to the most. She was trapped with the enemy, and she needed to get away. She would simply have to kill the girl this time. No more playing around. None of it would matter after today anyway, it seemed.

 _So, why do you run, my dear?_

Because Talon is where she belonged. Without them, she was nothing. She had to kill. She had to murder. That's all she was good for, and it's all that brought her even a hint of pleasure.

 _This girl is offering you a chance for a new life. Take it. You don't need Talon._

No. She did. Talon is all she had. Talon needed her, and she needed them. She was the perfect assassin. Nobody could replace her. Moira was only making her stronger. Once her body adjusted to the chemicals integrating themselves into her entire being, she would be even more powerful. These pesky emotions only served to weigh her down. She wanted them to disappear.

 _Brainwashing. Manipulation. They don't care about you at all. If this experiment fails, they'll find another. You can be discarded. You're dispensable._

It didn't matter to Widow. She'd be all the better for it. This life had lost all meaning either way. This girl had offered an amusing diversion, but even now she was beginning to feel nothing for the thought of fighting her. It was all clouding over. All matters of motivation were slipping through her fingers.

'Hey.' A hand made contact with Widow's shoulder, and she snapped around, flipping her form on the ground and biting down hard on her lower lip until it bled, dripping over her chin.

'Don't…touch me…' She hissed, vision blurring and mouth moving slow.

'What's happening to you, Luv? I mean, it kinda works for me right now, but something's changed since we fought last, hasn't it?'

A few more seconds. Just a little more time and Widowmaker's strength would be back. She would take out Tracer and return to where she belonged. Where she could kill. Where she could…

 _You're hesitating._

It was Moira's fault. Everything was in disarray because of her. Tracer, too. Why couldn't they leave her alone? Why couldn't Widow simply kill? Why could she not decide between pushing and pulling? What was this emptiness in her chest? Why did her toes hurt? Why did her mouth feel vacant? White. She could see white fabric. White fabric restricting her limbs. White fabric bringing her joy. White. White. White.

 _Your dance. Your wedding._

'Enough.' Widow wheezed, and she twisted, attempting to get her legs through her arms so she could better move her body and escape. Tracer was on her in an instant, however, her clingy hands grabbing at Widow in a weak attempt to subdue her.

'Bloody hell! Don't do this, Luv! I don't wanna hurt you!'

'Then you remain the fool!' Widow growled, even bound capable of overpowering Tracer somewhat. Physically, she was much more built for close quarters combat because she was _made_ to be that way. She wriggled about in the aircraft, shoving Tracer off over and over again, even going so far as to smash her head into the other girl's, finally getting into a kneeling position and successfully bringing her hands under her legs and in front of her where they belonged.

'Damn it!' Tracer was rubbing her skull. 'What are you made out of?'

Widow tried to smirk, but another wave slammed into her just as she was obtaining the upper hand, her whole body collapsing as if magnetized to the flooring of the aircraft. Was it happening? Was the poison having the last say now?

 _Fight it. Fight it as you've fought the moment they tried to twist your brain into a monster's._

Too late. She was already a monster. This would be her final form. An unfeeling killing machine. Life would be so very simple from here on out. The abyss that ate at her heart was already disappearing. It was rapturous. Why resist further? To what end? Instinct was a powerful adversary, and it had rebelled valiantly, but Moira's science was godly, and it would have the last word.

 _Then why do you look like you're about to cry?_

Those words again. She _couldn't_ cry anymore. And yet…and yet…and yet…

'Hey.' Her voice was so soft suddenly. 'I'm here, alright? Right here.'

Why was she saying that? Why was this girl so insistent on interfering? Who was being toyed with now? Who had always been toyed with? Why did Widowmaker desire to fight this Overwatch agent so? It was animalistic desire. The thrill of the hunt. That was all. That was…all…

'I…don't…'

 _Be honest. She's the only one who can help you now._

'I'm…sc…ar…ed…'

What? She was what? No. That wasn't true. Nothing frightened _the_ Widowmaker; the world's greatest assassin and sniper. What was this voice? Was Moira's infiltration causing Widow to go insane? That was the only answer!

'Oh, God…! Widow…er…Amelie! Stay with me! Your eyes are going all – !'

What? "Going all…" what? Why couldn't she hear her? Who was Amelie? What was any of this?

 _You're fading. It's taking over._

'I'm gonna – then we can – okay? Oh, man – wish Angela was – to do. But I'm not – ise.'

It was finally ending. All of it. This useless existence. This torture. This agony. This hell. This regret. Sweet release. Sweet separation. Sweet things are made of…

'Wait! Why are – re? Som – rt her! Huh? Bu – ill me! Reap – ot me!'

 _Goodbye…Coward._

* * *

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling.

The path was getting smaller. She couldn't breathe. She was being swallowed.

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling.

She was sinking. She was floating. She had no air.

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling…

* * *

'Heya, Sleeping Beauty. Lookin' a touch better now, huh? Got you something to help with whatever was makin' you go all crazy. Well, not me, I guess, but I'm not supposed to tell you who helped us at the end there. Can't figure that one out, I tell you.'

Disoriented again. Still numb. But…alive. Thoughts were processing. Senses realigning. Arms and legs cuffed to the seats within the humming aircraft.

 _Final chance._

'How are you feelin'?' The girl named Tracer asked for whatever reason. However, Widowmaker needed to test out her capabilities as her brain persisted to configure itself after the assault of Moira's drug.

'I don't feel.'

A beat, and Widow thought she heard a small giggle from the pilot's seat.

'Mm. Debatable, but okay. Glad you're talking _some_ sense at least.'

It was true. Widow's mouth was functioning semi-normally. Whoever had helped before Widow's mind nearly completely shut down, and whatever they had administered, worked to an extent. For how long? Widow presumed little.

'Anyway, sorry 'bout the kinky setup. Didn't have a choice, you know? I mean, after you headbutted me to kingdom come I couldn't risk another bruise on the money maker.'

A headache was returning, but at least it wasn't due to the poison. Tracer's voice was simply irritating. She just loved to talk; the complete opposite of Widowmaker.

'Heh. That was…uh…a joke. I mean, I don't think I'm hideous or anything, but I got nothing on you. Girl's confidence takes a dive with someone like you around.'

The implications were clear, but Widowmaker's aesthetic appeal meant little to her. It was only seldomly useful during missions when brief moments of seduction were required. As an assassin, she supposed she was blessed with certain charms, if need be, but those missions were few and far between; particularly as her ability to exhibit convincing emotions regularly beyond the thrill of the kill waned.

Widow checked her cuffs, struggling slightly to get a read on her level of captivity. Akande _may_ have been capable of breaking free due to his brute strength, but Widow stood no chance. She was being taken to an Overwatch base of some kind. This girl wanted to "save" her.

How completely idiotic.

Widowmaker would kill as many as she could before inevitably being put down. That would send a clear message, and dying while performing her most valued act didn't sound terrible. Glory to Talon.

 _But why?_

That question didn't need to mean anything.

'Anyhow, I think we're safe with me flying us to the base. Head is still a little wonky, no thanks to you, and the ol' body could be a bit better, but we're not crashing yet! Hopefully Angie is back from her mission soon to have a look atcha. You have some kinda poison in you, right? That _and_ a bunch of crazy experiments were done to make you…you? Completely daft.'

She simply wouldn't be quiet. How could one go on talking like this? It was almost like dealing with Sombra. Although, Widow would admit, Tracer had sincere kindness behind everything she said, whereas that manipulative hacker laced every syllable with sarcasm and lies. If she had to choose, the Overwatch agent was the lesser of two evils…barely.

'You gonna let me be the only one talkin' here, Luv? I was told to keep you mentally aware, or what have you. Apparently, it's better than leaving your mind to its own devices. Mental breakdowns and so forth. Might be a touch easier if you said something, too. Otherwise, I might have to start singin', and believe you me, I wouldn't wish that on my greatest enemies.'

So, that was it. She was…trying to help. Unbelievable. But Widowmaker _did_ feel more grounded. If she wanted to carry out her plan competently, perhaps it was best to play along for the time being. It would be that much more satisfying if Widow betrayed this foolish girl's ignorant trust when the time came if the hero of Overwatch actually thought she had managed to "save" Widowmaker.

'Don't sing.' Widow mumbled, and she could hear Tracer shifting in her seat ahead.

'Aha! She speaks! Heheh!'

'Of course. I simply choose not to in most cases.'

'Oh? And why's that?'

'Because it's tiresome.'

'Not because you're shy, Luv?'

'…No.'

'I don't know about that. But it's okay. A cool, silent beauty can be something else as well.'

'That doesn't matter to me.'

'Guess not anymore, huh? It's all about Talon now, right?'

'…Correct.'

'Why?'

That annoying question.

'Because I must.'

'Right. And why must you, I'm guessin', work for them?'

'It's the only way.'

'To…?'

Widowmaker's temple pulsated, and she twisted in place, her bound position causing a dull sense of anger to rise in her stomach.

'To kill.' Widow's eye twitched, and she tried to sneer. 'Just as I killed that dull omnic and you could do _nothing_ about it. Just as I'll kill again and again the second I am able.'

'Ooh, scary. Nice try, too, but I know you're only like that because of Talon. Read your bio after our tussle in my hometown. You used to be a professional ballet dancer? I bet you were super popular. I mean, with a body like that…er…I don't mean to be rude, but honestly. Shiver!'

Not the reaction Widowmaker was suspecting, and mention of her supposed past only served to reverse the intended results.

'You would dismiss your failure so easily?'

'Trust me; I think about it more than I should, I'm sure, but I'm not holding it against you anymore. That wouldn't be fair.'

'When is life fair, little girl?'

'Touché. But that doesn't mean I can't try and make it just a touch better for some people, right?'

Widowmaker decided that she hated Tracer more than ever in that moment. Her optimism was grating. Her innocence was borderline lunacy. Her desire to be a "hero" was nauseating. Widow hated her. She truly hated her. She couldn't wait to break her once and for all.

 _And yet, you keep talking._

'Like me.'

'Like you. Heheh.'

'You're wasting your time. Even now, I am imagining the best way to kill you.'

'Well, yeah, because that's how Talon made you.'

She said it so matter-of-factly. Widow crunched her teeth together. She was better off numb. But she couldn't let this go. She wanted to break through whatever was protecting this girl's resolve. Nobody was so selfless. Nobody.

'They only experimented on my body. My mind remains as it was.'

'That's a load of bull and you know it.'

'You don't know _anything_ about me.'

'I know enough, but yeah, feel free to tell me more. How about your favourite drink? We can start with that!'

Widowmaker shook her head, rolling her eyes.

'You cannot be serious.'

'Sure! We got some time to kill, and chatting is obviously helping, so why not? I'm guessing a wine of some kind, right? Ice wine? Super expensive stuff? You'd be a pricey date, I can tell. I'd personally be willing to spend a pretty penny on you myself though. I'm thinkin' more than a few guys would feel the same.'

Widowmaker blinked, her brain processing Tracer's words and a few of her other comments leading up to this point.

'You…desire women?' She suddenly asked, wondering why the question meant anything at all to her. Boredom was a fearsome foe, indeed. Not only that, but Moira's toxin _was_ being kept at bay. Widow needed to survive for now. She required her consciousness to pull off the developing plan in her mind.

'You didn't know? Hahah! Wasn't there a big ol' announcement somewhere? Made waves on the internet and all that? Maybe not. But yeah. As you so classily put it: I "desire" women and women only. I mean, Jack was cute way back when, don't get me wrong, but would I be all lovey dovey with the guy? Nah. Couldn't imagine. Knew it when I was, like, ten or something. Talked one of my friends into kissing "for fun" or whatever. Yep. Couldn't pretend from that point on. It's not _nearly_ as big a deal as it used to be, from what I know, but that doesn't mean there aren't lotsa folks who don't look at you funny here and there. Guess it's still a bit of an uphill battle even these days. Crazy, right?'

'It is unnatural.' Widowmaker concluded easily.

'Oi. You serious, Luv?'

'The purpose of a relationship is to reproduce, no? What is the point of two women being together?'

'Uh, yeah, us humans aren't like "normal" animals. We have what's called "feelings", and they sorta change, oh, everything.'

'I wouldn't know.'

'Sure, you don't. Well, let me tell you; who you fall in love with sometimes isn't a choice, and some of us just sorta look past "gender" and see the soul of someone. Not only that, but I think a bunch of us just like what we like and find certain things appealing just because. Like food. Or drinks. Hard to explain "why" you enjoy certain tastes; you just do. Make sense?'

'…It doesn't truly matter to me.'

'So, you still think it's weird?'

'For a woman to make love to another woman?'

'Yeah.'

Widowmaker had never given it much consideration before, really. She had no reason to. Her instinctual reaction was as she vocalized, but she wasn't incapable of following what Tracer said either. Nonetheless, Tracer's confidence had evidently been shaken ever so slightly, and Widow couldn't say she minded that.

'I do. Your reasoning isn't false, I suppose, but you can't argue against my point either. It is "unnatural". A man and woman are simply more compatible. The physical attributes dictate as much, do they not?'

 _My, how you've found your voice suddenly._

'…Fine. We'll agree to disagree. It's not worth arguing with you about.'

'Giving up, are we?'

'Is there a point to trying to convince you? I went through that phase already. I've learned my lesson. Cheers. Done.'

A pause, the humming of the aircraft's engine vibrating the whole ship soothingly. Tracer evidently knew how to handle an aircraft. Her piloting skills were rather impressive, to say the least. Regardless, there was something to be said about a disheartened Tracer, if only subtly. Widowmaker proceeded, as she found her mind working better than it had in quite some time due to the engagement she had initially been forced to participate in.

'Perhaps if I had the opportunity to experiment with such deviations, I might be forced to change my mind.'

The aircraft shifted sharply suddenly, and the corner of Widow's mouth twitched.

'Ahem!' Tracer cleared her throat. 'D-didn't know you were one for jokes, Luv.'

'I don't joke.'

'R-really. Hahah! Gotcha. Well, once we get your head back into shape maybe I'd be willing to give you a few pointers.'

'Truly? Only if you'd also be willing to risk a swift death.'

'Right. Right.'

Widowmaker breathed out slowly, staring at the ceiling of her cell. What did she want? What was the truth her mind craved when it allowed moments like this? The urge to kill was ever festering, yet something in this conversation sparked a distant echo in her head and heart. It hurt. It was uncomfortable. It was always followed by a "treatment", yet Moira was nowhere to be found, and her toxin was temporarily being kept at bay.

It was…difficult.

'Sorry about the cuffs, Luv. Hope you're not too uncomfortable.'

Widow closed her eyes then, feeling her pupils scratching against her lids. This anxiety was consuming her. There was no way out. She would be experimented on…again. Talon would punish her for being captured. Would she ever be allowed to kill after today? She couldn't imagine a life without such an order. No. Impossible. She couldn't do it.

'Let me go.' Widow mumbled dryly.

'Not happening. You wanna go back? Really?'

'Let me go.' She repeated, a soulless anger building.

'No. I'm gonna save you. I promised.'

Rapid blinks, a stabbing pain returning. Mission failed. Captured by an enemy. No way out.

'Let me go.' Desperate. Widow could feel a puzzle falling into place in her programing. Her neuro-reconfiguration was piecing together a code as the reality of the scene clicked, fulfilling requirements one after another.

'Okay. Maybe ask one more time and I'll think about it, 'kay?'

' _Let me go!_ ' Widowmaker screamed so loud the aircraft dipped again.

'Oi! Didn't know you could hit that octave! I was kidding, Luv. What's gotten into you?'

'Please…' Widow murmured, her neck tightening and heart beating almost like a real human's. The final pieces clicked. Captured. No escape. Enemy tampering. Talon investigation. Mental probing. Lost information. Valuable tool. No way out. No way out. No way out.

 _Don't listen!_

Self-destruct.

'Ah…! Ahhh! Aha…!' Widowmaker groaned, her back arching and her cuffs crashing into the seats.

'Whoa! Bloody hell, Luv! What's this all of a sudden!?'

No way out. No way out. No way out. No way out. No way out.

Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct.

'Ugh…! Ah…! Ahhh…! Ngh…!' She continued to flail in place, slamming her body on the ground over and over and over.

'Jesus!' Tracer cursed, but Widow's vision was blurred. Nothing was making sense. Her arms and legs bound, there was only one option. No other choice. Long live, Talon. Long live…Talon…

Widow gagged, blood from Tracer's hand in her mouth. She was ready to bite through her own tongue, but the foolish girl had interfered.

'Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh, bloody _bloody_ hell you can chomp! Oi! Oi! Oi! Shoulda kept the gloves on! Oh, God! Honestly!'

The puzzle fell apart, shattering in her mind and littering the holes plaguing the broken assassin's brain. Her head twitched, a spasm shaking her into a momentary fit of insanity, and a single word fell through her slightly parted lips, the air frozen with its distant delivery.

'…Merci.'


	28. XXVIII: Mercy

Mercy

Clothes were strewn about her bed. A total of three outfits had been discarded after careful evaluation in front of a somewhat small mirror. It was the first time Angela had ever wanted to see her full body in such a reflective device. She could just view from about her collar up, and the doctor currently stood in her only semi-interesting pair of undergarments; a white, somewhat lacey set that she seldom felt the need to bother looking at tight against her body and revealing a little more of her bottom than she generally preferred or saw the point in exposing.

'I'm being so utterly silly.' Angela muttered, glaring at the ensembles that hadn't made the cut. 'It is but a drink. Nothing more. Two women enjoying one another's company as friends.'

And yet, the doctor sensed she was oversimplifying the matter for the sake of her own emotional protection. Despite the compelling evidence from their interactions in the past, Angela still wasn't convinced that Fareeha could possibly feel anything romantically for her. Admittedly, Angela had made a rather bold move herself by claiming she thought Fareeha to be beautiful as well, but she shied away from mentioning it again, leaving the compliment to Fareeha's imagination in a notion of delirium prior to submitting to a much-needed rest.

Fortunately, after the worst of the recovery time was pushed past by her body's incredible healing capabilities, it wasn't longer than twelve hours before Angela made a nearly full turnaround, to everyone's amazement. It was odd to Mercy how her old comrades _still_ marvelled at the nanomachines that continued to keep her so youthful and capable of healing various injuries. Although Angela would submit to the fact that this particular incident had pushed her body to its very limit, into a red zone she rarely ventured, some personal work in her office would hastily encourage her remaining nanomachines to recover and reproduce as necessary.

However, that was neither here nor there for now. Before the next Talon attack, or Omnic Crisis that needed diverting, or anything at all that required either Pharah or Mercy, Angela convinced Fareeha to join her for their promised drink the moment she felt capable of moving around somewhat comfortably. Fareeha had, of course, bucked at the very idea initially, but Angela could work the younger woman rather easily at this point, and with enough encouragement – via partially flirtatious teasing – Fareeha gave in, walking Angela to her quarters before returning to her own so she could also shower and prepare prior to picking Angela up again.

Thus leading to Angela's current predicament. Superficial aesthetic appeal was excessively low on Angela's list of priorities, and therefore, her wardrobe offered little that contributed to the mood Angela desired to set; which was fitting, because she herself had no clue what she _actually_ wished to present to Fareeha.

'Any problem deserves a proper scientific method in order to draw sound conclusions from. I shall start with picking a specific topic. Simple enough, yes? Going on a date with Fareeha.' Angela paused, staring at her mirror and batting at her hair. 'Heh. A rub already. Is it a date, or is it a "date"? One serves the purpose of simply enjoying another's company. The other has romantic connotations, which bring forth a whole slew of variables and potential for emotional stress. Mmm. Perhaps the former use of date will serve me better, therefore, wearing anything revealing or sexually suggestive may be too forward. Indeed, I would feel rather foolish for doing so. Very good. Progress made.'

Angela tried not to think too much further on the subject. She extracted a white button-up, a black tank top, and black, formfitting pants. It was an overly simple outfit, but she felt it fit the casual nature of the outing well enough. Satisfied, Angela smiled, pulling up her legwear as she continued outwardly organizing her frazzled thoughts.

'Next, a hypothesis and prediction in association with said hypothesis. I will have a pleasant time tonight getting to know Fareeha and solidify the feelings I may or may not have developing for her. This date or "date" is likely to help myself determine an emotion I have yet to fully comprehend in my entire life; that is, a form of potential romantic infatuation with another. Based on the particularly painful throbbing in my chest, I am either still recovering from the previous battle, or quite readily anxious about this endeavour for numerous reasons.'

Angela stretched the black tank top over her body, adjusting until it rested correctly on her form. She then reached for her white button-up and carefully fastened the buttons through their respective slits. She observed the results and noticed that, while she didn't look awful, she somewhat appeared to be a little _too_ reserved. She tentatively undid three of the top buttons until she observed a small curve appear due to her chest. This allowed some of her black tank top to appear as well, and the overall presentation was much more casual and even a little sexy, although nothing compared to some of the fashions Angela had observed younger girls practising these days.

As for her hair and face, Angela decidedly did nothing new. She played it quite safe in that regard, not wishing to tip the perceived variables in any direction. She wanted to be with Fareeha as she always was beyond the slight effort put into her outfit (and even then, she certainly didn't look over-the-top or anything). However, she did add just a slight bit more mascara to her upper lashes as a mini-experiment. Her already piercing-blue eyes popped tenfold, and while the effect was nice, she wondered if it was even worth her time.

'The final step in our scientific method today is the "testing" phase. This is the date itself, and I can only make my observations during as well as after the outing. Is this my first date? No. Therefore, I should not have any concerns or reservations. However, it may be notable to state that this _is_ my first time being as nervous as I am. It's actually rather humorous for, at thirty-seven, I feel a semblance of anxiety as though I were a seventeen-year-old girl. Why is this? Well, I suppose the answer is simple enough. I felt no fear when entertaining the few outings men have asked of me in the past because zero interest on my part was involved. This particular scenario, however…'

A sound chimed at the door indicating that someone was outside of Angela's quarters. She clamped her mouth shut in embarrassment, realizing that talking to herself as extensively as she was truly pointed at the nerves that also caused her chest to flip at the notion Fareeha was waiting for her this very minute. She had pushed emotional attachment to others away so adamantly for so long that an overwhelming nausea made her throat ache and vision blur for but a second. Did she really want to do this? Did she really want to leave herself so vulnerable? The pain from eons ago still throbbed. Could she handle another traumatic experience like that again?

Two paths lay before Angela, and suddenly this date or "date" forced her to make a choice she wasn't prepared to commit to quite yet.

'I'll be right there!' Angela called out, hoping Fareeha hadn't heard her mumbling to herself like a lunatic. With a final deep breath, Angela slipped her phone in her pant pocket and got her door, the blockade sliding open with a smooth motion to reveal Fareeha.

Angela had found men attractive before. Physically, she had appreciated many a male individual throughout her entire life. Indeed, even during her first stay as an Overwatch member, she considered Gabriel and Jack to be quite appealing. Even McCree had a rugged charm about him. But it always ended there. Angela never wanted to know someone on a more intimate level. She was perceived as stuck up by many, she was sure, when it came to romance, for not a single man could speak of a second date with _the_ Dr. Ziegler. She never entertained the thought. She never wanted to.

Yet now, in this strange moment, Angela found herself thinking that Fareeha was a very attractive human being. She already knew, as a person, Fareeha was a lovely soul, and now, as the days had passed her by, Angela was recognizing that she was sexually intrigued by another woman of all people.

Fareeha was wearing semi-distressed, dark jeans, a black, form-fitting, fashionable jacket, and a white tank top underneath that revealed just the slightest amount of cleavage that pushed heat into Angela's cheeks. To top the charming ensemble off, Fareeha also had a modest necklace on that had what appeared to be her army's dog tag. Finally, the sunglasses the other woman lifted as she smiled at Angela had an unanticipated effect on the older girl. Was Fareeha conscious of her "masculine" appeal? She was so very clearly a woman, with womanly charms, but somehow she also emitted waves of truly virile allure as well. It almost didn't seem fair.

'Good evening, Fareeha. It is lovely to see you.' Angela smiled back, sincerely feeling her face light up without any effort on her part.

'Hello.' Fareeha answered with only a touch of her usual confidence compromised. 'I hope I'm not too early.'

'Not at all! Your timing is perfect, in fact.'

'Oh, good.' She paused, snatching glances of Angela that the doctor was hyper aware of now. 'You look nice.'

It was such a small compliment that had an honest delivery Angela couldn't wish anything more of.

'Thank-you. I suppose you haven't seen me in any personal casual wear yet, have you? Granted, all my outfits are fairly new since making it here, as you're quite aware.'

'I am.' Another beat, and Fareeha seemed to express her true concern. 'Are you sure it is fine that we do this now? I worry Winston may need us in the near future and, more importantly, you are still recovering. Please do not push yourself.'

Angela grinned, stepping in a little closer to Fareeha to the point that she could smell the other woman's rustic perfume which had obviously been recently applied, to the older girl's satisfaction.

'I'm not, Fareeha. Besides, I _want_ to get out and about after resting for such a long period of time. My body is something of an anomaly, as you've seen, so do not underestimate its healing capabilities. As for Overwatch needing us, well, _I_ am being refused any further missions for at least another day or so, while you have been volunteered as my support should I need it. We're both fulfilling our tasks by relaxing and staying in one another's company, yes? Let us take advantage of this opportunity.'

Fareeha nodded slowly after a moment, a tiny smile creeping over her face again.

'Then I'll have no further reservations. I have been looking forward to this, if I am to be honest. I'm glad it's come sooner rather than later.'

'I feel the same. I think we both deserve it. A little outing for the ladies, as it were.'

'Yes. Exactly. Much has happened, and it is my honour to escort you this fine evening.'

'My, how dashing!' Angela clapped her hands teasingly. 'But as a former security officer, I'm sure you're used to acting in such a manner.'

'That's true.' Fareeha laughed. The two ladies stood about for a moment longer, and then Fareeha stepped aside, as if welcoming Angela out of her living quarters and doing everything in her power to avoid peering into rudely, which was so sweet. 'Shall we?'

'Yes!'

* * *

Exiting Overwatch Gibraltar to take a transport vehicle to the nearest town wasn't much of a feat for someone with Angela's standing. Fareeha had also made a name for herself, and therefore, her I.D. allowed her to come and go rather easily in comparison to lesser known agents. There was only very minor questioning before Fareeha was behind one of the rental's wheels Overwatch had for such occasions. Angela found it somewhat amusing how assertive yet chivalric Fareeha naturally seemed to be. She had gotten the door for Angela, and ensured she was comfortable before pulling out of the garage and driving competently. The fact both women so seamlessly fell into a particular role on this first outing together was curious to Angela, and she added the minor details to her overall analysis of the time being spent.

Already, Angela was having a better experience than she had on any "dates" prior. She had a previously solidified bond and trust built with Fareeha, and she found herself observing every action the other woman did with intrigue and inquisitiveness. Never before had she wanted to know so much about a single person, and it was both exciting and terrifying to the doctor.

'Do you have an idea as to where we are going? I suppose we should have established that already. Heheh!' Angela went on, the small talk happening between the women up until this point so calming and easy for her.

'It was my idea to venture out for a drink together, so I looked into a few places nearby and thought this one bar might be nice. It's called El Cortijo, and it's been recently refurbished. Is that…alright with you?'

Angela was impressed. She didn't take Fareeha for a meticulous planner, yet it made some sense considering she led her own squad in the Egyptian army for a time. Still, imagining this woman digging through her phone or a computer to locate a spot for her and Angela to go on their outing was a strangely cute scene.

'Of course! I imagine anywhere with you would be entertaining to some degree.' Angela wanted to see Fareeha's reaction, and although some tension found the other girl's neck, she remained composed, and somehow this threw Angela off.

'Well, I would agree with that. Simply driving with you brings me contentment, especially knowing you are feeling better after what felt like too long. I never want to see you in such a state again, Angela.'

Angela's breath got caught in her throat, and she turned to her window, watching the dark outside passing her by at a rather high speed.

'Quite the reversal…' She muttered under her breath. 'I will attempt to be more careful in the coming days.' She then said clearly.

'I want to ask if I may be your official bodyguard on future missions. I had time to review the documents in relation to the new omnic the enemy has developed, and I believe special precautions are necessary going forward. If that was just the prototype, I'm convinced our lives are only going to get busier from here onward.'

Angela closed her eyes. Was Fareeha doing this on purpose? She wasn't supposed to take the lead so easily. Angela felt as though she were on the defensive with her emotions the way they fluctuated with every word from this woman. How perilous this apparent infatuation could be. She needed to regain her footing.

'I doubt you'd be granted such a specialized role. Your Raptora suit is better fit for other missions, more than likely. I can't see Jack or Winston underutilizing its potential.'

'…I don't think you're wrong.' Fareeha sighed. 'But I will be making the request regardless. Given the choice, I would stay by your side as much as possible.' She finally faltered. 'Er…that is, if I wouldn't be intruding.'

'Mmm. I don't know.' Angela tapped her cheek, grinning happily. 'Could be slightly overbearing.'

'Oh. Um. Of course.'

Angela turned to Fareeha again, staring at her profile as she handled the car with such command and confidence. The way her neck fed into her strong jaw was fetching, and her dark hair with the charming accessories within it had a mysterious, foreign allure to it as well. The doctor leaned in a little, noting the way her driver's grip on the wheel tightened.

'I'm teasing you, Fareeha. Surely you're aware of this.'

'I…didn't want to be presumptuous.'

'And that's very considerate, but you should know by this point that I wouldn't be in a vehicle with you, driving out to a bar in the late evening, just the two of us, if I didn't enjoy your presence more than an average amount.'

'True…'

'See what Jack or Winston says. That's all you can do.' Angela released her mental hold on the poor girl, stabilized again. 'I wouldn't mind your wishes becoming a reality. I've seen what you're capable of, and I feel quite safe in your care.'

'I could say the same to you.' Fareeha laughed.

'Ah. Fair enough. The whole healing capability tends to draw others to me well enough.' Angela also giggled.

The drive itself took approximately half an hour to complete, but Angela could have blinked and it would have seemed just as long. She valued the time she was spending on herself for once, and that very same, valuable set number of minutes seemed to fall through her hands like sand no matter how she tried to hold on to it.

Fareeha easily parallel parked near the pub, snatching a space that just revealed itself once another car pulled out.

'Wait a moment.' She demanded, exiting their vehicle and rushing over to Angela's side to get her door. The doctor couldn't help but chuckle to herself, stepping out of the car feeling something like a celebrity due to the pampering she hadn't experienced in quite some time. She found when any man she humoured a date with performed such acts they came laced with expectation and anticipation. It was as though they were attempting to store a hidden number of "points" which would accumulate to better support their case for sexually suggestive endeavours. When Angela wouldn't even provide a kiss at the end of the night, she could see the disappointment and betrayal in her date's visage, as if to say, "You owe me this for everything I've done for you". To which Angela would have gladly debated. However, as anticipated and determined throughout the course of any such outing, they were cowards through and through. She was a fool to expect anything more from the individuals that had the gall to assume they knew her because of her place in the medical world.

Fareeha, on the other hand, evidently _wanted_ to treat Angela so kindly simply because she had the opportunity. She appreciated Angela on a very different level from anyone else, seeing many sides of the doctor that she actively hid from most. Angela didn't get the sense Fareeha had a hidden agenda; she was too honest for that. And this was partially why she found herself almost reaching for the woman's arm to hold as they made their way to the pub. It was precisely why she was finding herself more and more drawn to the daughter of Ana Amari, as strange as it sounded in her mind. With every particle of sand that slipped through her fingers, her interest was building. It was almost painful. She had lived so selflessly for so long that the notion of fixating her mind on something other than the wellbeing of others felt wrong, and yet, she couldn't imagine being anywhere but here with Fareeha Amari.

The younger woman got the door to El Cortijo for Angela, and then quickly spoke with the front hostess, stating she wanted a booth table for two, if one was still available.

'Oh! You had a space reserved under Amari, right?' The rather young girl tapped on her sheet at the podium she stood. 'We don't usually hold anything for a party less than five, but the manager said something about your mother being famous?'

'Yes. But please don't make a scene of it.' Fareeha waved the comment off, and a knot formed in Angela's chest. When would that stubborn woman show herself to her poor daughter, for Pete's sake? But when that momentary frustration passed, Angela had the chance to shake her head appraisingly at the fact Fareeha even went so far as to ensure they had a space to be seated, somewhat away from the, admittedly, noisier part of the pub where a live band of omnics and humans played some smooth, jazzy tunes. Overall, the aesthetic appeal of the place was lovely. It was dimly lit, with warm reds, browns, and golds, maintaining a sense of rural charm while remaining somewhat contemporary and inviting. There was a more bar-like, rambunctious sector of the pub, and a semi-secluded, laidback space that Fareeha and Angela were escorted through now. Their table was nestled away on an elevated part of the pub, so the view of their chosen establishment was available, should they choose to look upon the others enjoying a night out.

'Here are your menus, ladies. And it's only the two of you tonight?' The hostess inquired innocently.

'Yes.' Fareeha answered, her pitch just a tad higher, to Angela's amusement.

'How nice! Girl's night out is always fun! I'll be sending Mia over to take your orders in a sec, okay? Otherwise, have a fantastic night!'

'My thanks.' Angela beamed, her mood lifting higher than she suspected possible.

'Thank-you.' Fareeha began glancing around, looking back at Angela with her big, brown eyes eventually. 'Is this okay?' she asked so very sweetly.

'Quite. I rather like the atmosphere, and to have such luxurious seating? You outdid yourself for a mere "drink", Fareeha Amari.' Angela winked playfully.

'I…thought you deserved something special for your first frivolous night in quite some time. You've been in Iraq for so long, living in such trying conditions. And then, you return to Overwatch only to be hurt so terribly. You give so much for others that I can only do such little favours to try and show how much I appreciate your efforts and work.'

Angela exhaled after a beat, momentarily forgetting to breathe as Fareeha was talking. She physically touched her chest, the swirling sensations bewildering her brilliant mind.

'My…You flatter me…' Angela practically whispered breathlessly, having to shake her head in order to compose herself enough to go on more normally. 'But the effort doesn't go unnoticed. You have a way of making a girl feel something like a princess. Did you know that?'

'I would gladly play the role of a knight if it means giving you such a reaction.' Fareeha seemed to ponder the idea a little more seriously, perhaps imagining herself in such outdated armour from stories long past. Angela herself created the scene in her mind, and Fareeha appeared nothing but gallantly in her considerations.

'You would make a very attractive knight, I suspect.' Angela decided to voice her thoughts, and Fareeha's expression faltered as she delivered a sound counter.

'But nothing in comparison to the matchless beauty you would encompass as a princess.'

Angela bit at her lower lip before responding, her mind elated.

'Shall we humour that word for a moment?'

'Er…which one?'

'Beauty. Or, more accurately, "beautiful".'

'S-sure.'

'Do you recall calling me "beautiful", Fareeha?' Angela wasted not a breath, asking the question while she had the gumption to do so. She was quite impressed with how stable Fareeha seemed to be during this "date" thus far, but the girl's face finally found a new shade of red as she attempted to answer the question.

'I…did what?'

'When you were hospitalized after your mission in China you claimed you could only think of me when your objective was nearly compromised. You then went on to say I was "beautiful". You don't recall?'

Fareeha's brow furrowed, and the colour remained on her cheeks.

'I don't.'

'Ah. I see. The words of the delusional. We are similar, it would seem, you and – '

'But it was the truth. It's what I think, Angela.' Fareeha met Angela's eyes, and a sense of dread alongside the ever-present excitement crept into the frame.

'I-I see.' Angela faltered, defaulting to dismissal as she drew closer to the sun. 'Well, our gender is one to constantly compliment our peer's sexual appeal. It's practically engrained into our genetics. I believe it has something to do with our naturally competitive nature in the animalistic realm of mating and finding the ideal partner. It's actually a fascinating subject; one of which I have considered doing another paper on.'

Fareeha's gaze shifted, and her shoulders dropped just a bit as she nodded slowly.

'That might have something to do with it, yes…'

A throbbing pounded in Angela's brain then, and she felt her arms being stretched to either side, pulling at her until she sensed she might split in two. Fear and Attraction. Could she go through such agony again? Her mind was juggling the possibilities, and Fareeha would only become collateral damage at this point.

'So, have we decided on what we're starting with to drink yet?' A waitress appeared with near-perfect timing.

'I am partial to the Ramos Gin Fizz, if you would be so kind.' Angela ordered.

'And for you?'

'Old English Malt, please.'

'Great! Oh! And I'm Mia. If you need anything at all, feel free to call me over. Otherwise, I'll have your drinks in a sec!'

'A malt, hm?'

'I'll only have the one since I'm driving.'

'Why, thank-you. I suppose that means I can have some fun tonight?'

'Please do. I'll be paying.'

Angela always refused to allow her previous dates when they offered to cover anything whatsoever. Again, she didn't want to give them the opportunity to use it against her. But with Fareeha?

'Are you certain?'

'I asked you to join me, Angela. It would be my pleasure.'

It hurt. It hurt because she was trying to resist something that had already made a home in her heart. This date was so frightening, and yet, Angela couldn't stop what was happening with her emotions. Fareeha was chivalric. She had a certain level of machismo about her. She was also so very delicate simultaneously in a bizarre way. She had an air of innocence Angela couldn't quite describe yet. She liked malt. She clearly enjoyed driving. Every little detail was a gift Angela wanted to store away in her memories and treasure.

'Then I shall gratefully accept.'

'Good.'

A beat, and Angela leaned on her hands, pushing away the negative thoughts that were threatening to hurt this dashing woman before her further.

'Tell me more about yourself, Fareeha Amari.'

'Pardon?'

'I want to know about you. I'm intrigued. You fascinate me.'

'Oh. I suppose that makes sense. You are a scientist through and through. Knowledge is power, right?'

 _Usually, yes, but I'm particularly interested because I am attracted to you._

'True.' Why couldn't she be honest?

'Well, what would you like to know?'

'Let's see…Let us start with your hobbies. What do you do for fun? What did you to do for fun in your youth? I remember a little Fareeha running about vaguely, but I was quite consumed with my projects at the time.'

'When I had some down time in the army I _did_ enjoy playing the guitar. I wasn't very good, but I've always found rock stars quite fun to watch and listen to.'

'The guitar!? Really, now?'

'Yes. I brought it with me to Gibraltar. There's been very little time to practice though.'

Angela sighed inwardly. She didn't have a prayer.

 _I would love to listen to you play sometime…just you and I._

'Perhaps you could show me someday?' Close enough.

'M-maybe. Like I said, I'm not very talented.'

'An attempt is always better than nothing, Fareeha. I admire individuals willing to at least try.'

'That's a good way of looking at it, I guess.'

Angela leaned forward, consuming the shape of Fareeha's face and the way her thick mascara truly made her eyes pop. The tattoo over her eye was alluring as well. She had such a pleasant visage.

'What else? Tell me more.'

'I doubt I'm worth going on about, Angela. _You're_ the hero and world-known scientist.'

 _It's worth it because it's you, and I can't possibly archive enough information related to your person_.

'One more detail, and I'll tell you something about myself. Do we have a deal?'

The way Fareeha's eyes lit up at the thought flushed Angela's face a little. She still had doubts if she and Fareeha were truly on the same page, but she was hastily getting to the point where she didn't care. She had _never_ experienced this feeling before, and although repelling in every way, it was also so very, very stimulating.

'I enjoy soccer and basketball. We used to have scrimmages during days off in the army. I wasn't bad.'

'With such a physically fit body, I hardly doubt it.'

'It may have helped…' Fareeha shrugged, not revelling in the compliment, for she wasn't that type of person.

'Here you are, ladies!' The drinks arrived, both concoctions placed before the women and the pub's presence emerging once more. The smooth music hummed about, and the general buzz of conversation faded back into existence.

'Thank-you.' Fareeha nodded.

'Appreciated.' Angela added.

Mia ensured nothing else was needed prior to being on her way, approaching a few omnics who had just arrived.

Angela took a sip of her drink, looking up at Fareeha as she did the same. The two girls didn't say anything for a moment, but their eyes met and, for once, Fareeha held the gaze, not shying away. It was a comfortable yet intense muted conversation, and Angela's legs turned inward under the table, her knees meeting and rubbing just so. This time, it was Angela who broke the meeting, deciding to comment on the music.

'I don't mind this style of song.' She uttered quietly, her heart pace quickened from the way Fareeha had been looking at her with such a sincere amount of interest regardless of how Angela had waved off the potential of their conversation turning overly intimate.

'Is that your end of the bargain?' Fareeha grinned, downing more of her drink.

'It doesn't have to be.' Angela did the same. 'Mine's rather tasty! What of yours?'

'Sweeter than I'd like, but not bad.'

'Not one for sugar-coated treats?'

'A little bit is okay, but they overdid the caramel.'

'I'm satisfied.' Angela hesitated, but again, disregarded the whispering in her ear. 'Would you like a taste?'

'…Sure.' Fareeha agreed, surprisingly.

'It's a little sour.'

'That's fine.'

Angela could have passed her drink over easily enough, but instead, she playfully held her beverage near her date, adjusting the straw so it was facing the other girl's pretty mouth. Fareeha took a moment, but accepted the challenge bravely, moving in and taking a small taste of Angela's Ramos Gin Fizz. A chill ran Angela's spine, and she swallowed slowly.

'Not bad.' Fareeha nodded.

'When I was on business in Japan a few years back, I learned that they make quite the spectacle over such an exchange.'

'Hm?'

'That is…an indirect kiss. We just participated in such a phenomenon. How do you feel about that, Fareeha?'

What was she doing? She had purposely steered the discussion away from such a subject, and yet, here she was, once again toying with this poor girl's heart and mind. Enough. Enough until she could commit.

Fareeha finished her drink in an attempt to delay answering, placing her glass down and breathing out deeply.

'How _should_ I feel, Angela?' She asked with justified confusion.

The music and buzz of other worlds came back, and Angela smiled wryly, hating herself for letting it get to this point. She recalled why she allowed work to overtake her. Just the mere thought of becoming vulnerable in such a way again…She couldn't.

 _You should feel excited, because that's certainly how I am reacting at just the thought of…_

'I…enjoy a good game of badminton here and there.' Angela closed her eyes in disdain. 'I-it is rather pleasant on a sunny day, when the wind is cooperative…'

Fareeha stood abruptly then, and Angela wouldn't have blamed her for storming out. In fact, she would've preferred it. She couldn't make up her ridiculous mind. This was all so new and terrifying. When it came down to it, and no matter how much she attempted to "tease" Fareeha, Angela was a pushover at this point in their relationship. The confusion made the doctor appreciate those who could competently navigate this minefield of emotional turmoil.

 _Leave me. I'm just so…so…_

'Hey.' Fareeha plopped down next to Angela, so close their legs were touching. A flutter filled the older woman's stomach, and she blinked back the looming tears, sipping the rest of her drink in frustration. 'I'm…pretty bad at reading social rhetoric and that sort of thing apparently, but I know I'm stressing you out, and I really don't want to.' She took a second, her lovely perfume entering Angela's nose. 'Um…so, try to relax? I'm sorry if I accidently put any pressure on you. And if I made you uncomfortable when I said strange things, then I'll never do it again.'

Angela could only laugh, the alcohol warming her veins and numbing her cheeks progressively.

'Shouldn't _I_ be the one retracting any misleading done, Ms. Amari? You are too kind…Far too kind. And I am just…a witch.'

'A witch?' Fareeha's tone had some amusement in it.

'A dastardly witch.'

'I don't think that's true at all, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't perplexed with when you're teasing and not.'

'As am I…' Angela admitted. It was the plain truth. One moment she wanted to hold Fareeha's hand, and another she wanted to push her away and never look back. The pulling from either side persisted, and Angela remained in the middle. She cared for Fareeha; there was no doubt about it. She cared about Fareeha more than anyone in many, many years. The realization picked at Angela's oldest and most painful scab she had managed to hide until this point. She couldn't know what to do. Was it still too soon? At thirty-seven, was it _still_ too soon?

'Then we should keep it simple, Angela.' Fareeha's voice was like a salve on the mental agony. She spoke softly, almost intimately into Angela's ear. It felt so good. Angela's shoulders instantly relaxed, and she didn't even realize they were so tense. 'I am just honoured to be here as your friend. That is more than enough for me. I only want to support you and maybe become a _better_ friend in the process. That is all. Please…don't look like that.'

Angela shook her head, Fareeha's hand wiping a runaway tear from the doctor's right eye.

'You've seen me at my most vulnerable quite a number of times now, Fareeha…'

'And you don't like others witnessing this side of you.'

Angela nodded, but met her friend's eyes again, a warmth circulating through her now.

'You're quite correct. But this particular scenario is not undesirable.' Angela exhaled slowly, waving Mia over. 'You have my thanks, Fareeha. Truly. I value our relationship and…I'm sorry for my behaviour. It hasn't been fair to you.'

'Another round, ladies?' Mia asked, and Fareeha declined, while Angela readily requested a refill.

'Please. Relax. There is nothing to be sorry about.' Fareeha responded so kindly. 'And when…or if…you're ever ready, I am here to listen at anytime. I may not be able to offer much advice you haven't considered, but I am fairly confident in my ability to be a good soundboard.'

'I…will certainly take that into consideration.' Angela promised herself she would. She had to.

* * *

The world became rather blurry after approximately an hour and a half of Fareeha and Angela's outing went by. With the initial tension dealt with, it was a much more feasible task to enjoy one another's company further. Although Angela's attraction to Fareeha wouldn't release her thoughts, she refused to make any more suggestive comments to avoid insulting her wonderful companion. As a result, it was something of a catch twenty-two, for Fareeha was able to be her naturally charming, intelligent, confident self with Angela, the two ladies capable of talking so organically, jumping from subject to subject ranging from Fareeha's colourful events in the Egyptian army, to Angela's youth and how young she started becoming the scientist she now was. This made for lively chatter, and as Angela's vision became a little foggier, she could only stare more boldly at Fareeha's grinning and beautiful mannerisms. Thus, the catch: Angela desired Fareeha with every passing second, and although she caught herself before consuming _too_ much alcohol, she knew she was just a little buzzed, and her calculating mind was having its way with the artificial courage.

Angela blinked, and snapped her head up, partially passing out, it seemed. Fareeha was already paying Mia, sliding her a handsome tip, apparently.

'My apologies…' Angela rubbed her head. 'What time is it?'

'Late.' Fareeha answered. 'We'll be past even your curfew if we don't move quickly. I'm sorry. I meant to keep track of the time better, but I…I was enjoying speaking with you too much, I guess.'

'Oh, it's fine. What will Jack do? Punish me? I've saved his life so many times I have more than a few freebies packed away.'

Fareeha laughed, rising out of her seat and extending her hand to Angela so that she could help her up. The doctor took it readily, converting to Fareeha's arm to better stabilize herself. Moving to a standing position made Angela truly feel her state, and she blinked rapidly, giggling at the fact she had let herself get just a little carried away.

'Silly me. It's been _quite_ some time since I've indulged. My age doesn't allow for foolish frivolity quite as readily, hm?'

'Maybe, but you're also still recovering. I should've stopped you at your second.'

'Well, why didn't you, Ms. Amari?'

'I assumed your tolerance was known by yourself better than I.'

'A sound judgement.' Angela leaned into Fareeha, allowing her to lead them out of the pub and to the parked vehicle. Fareeha eased the doctor into her seat, and Angela was relieved to be sitting again. She buckled herself up and watched Fareeha slide in beside her.

'You should rest on our way back. I'll wake you when we've arrived.'

'I had fun.' Angela smiled, resting her head against the back of her seat. 'Promise me we'll do this again.'

'Only if you'll do the same.'

'A fair compromise.'

The night turned to an even deeper darkness, and the muffled sounds faded as Angela trusted Fareeha with her life without a single second of hesitation. The girl's voice was heard in her final moments of consciousness, and although Angela couldn't make out the words, she grinned regardless.

'Sl – p – ell – y – pr – ss.'

* * *

The softness of a familiar bed greeted Angela's body, and she felt two hands slide out from under her form. She was already feeling better, her biological makeup's method of handling such psychological influencers also a cut above a normal human being's. The coolness of her room tickled Angela's soul, and she nearly submitted to the idea of remaining asleep until a prick in her mind urged her awake.

'Fareeha…' She called out immediately, and she began to make out the dark shape that could only be her friend.

'I'm sorry. I used your card to get you settled. I was trying not to wake you.'

'It is quite alright.' Angela took a moment, realizing something as her brain settled into the moment. 'Did you…carry me all the way from the garage?'

'Yes. I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries.'

'N-not at all. I'm…impressed.'

'Oh, good.' A beat, and Angela could hear Fareeha breathing, the finer details of her shape taking form. Angela turned on a small lamp at her bedside, the dim light bringing forth Fareeha's gorgeous features. 'You should rest.' She turned away, a pain flashing past her eyes, although she likely assumed Angela hadn't caught sight of it in her semi-dazed state.

'Yes…I suppose.'

A long, drawn out silence Angela could almost grab hold of lingered. The paths remained. The experiment was in its final phase. The doctor couldn't make out the results clearly yet. An emptiness settled into her heart and stomach. A hollowness swelled in the darkness of the room. A cold, bloody hand flashed before her mind, and the nightmare attempted to thwart her anew.

'Goodnight, Angela.'

 _Don't go._

'Goodnight…'

 _Don't go._

'Sleep well.'

 _Please. Don't go._

'I'm sure I will.'

 _I'm scared; it's true._

Fareeha's shape moved away from the light, and she became a shadow, gliding to Angela's door.

 _But what scares me more right here, right now…_

Angela pushed the terrorizing nightmare out of her brain and her physical self off of her bed, stumbling to Fareeha, practically knocking her over as she collided with the other woman.

'A-Angela…!?'

 _…is regretting this moment and the rare chance at something special._

'Forgive me…' Angela whispered, taking hold of the collar on Fareeha's jacket and looking up at the girl's attractive image. She tightened her jaw, and then pulled Fareeha's face toward her own, their lips meeting partway, and a soft, tangible moment of sincere affection in one of its many forms was exchanged.

'Conclusion:' Angela breathed, still tasting Fareeha. 'I care about you so very, very deeply.'

And the doctor felt two strong hands hold her waist, curling around onto her back and pressing her body into Fareeha's own, the kiss the two women shared only just beginning.

'Angela…' Fareeha's voice became girlish in tone, the infatuation obvious, and it only spurred the older woman forward, her person heating up in a way she didn't know possible.

Their mouths slowly, tentatively began to open, and just as Angela fathomed the nerve to softly press her tongue against Fareeha's bottom lip, her phone sounded, and both ladies gave pause, the ringing loud and alarming. Even with the ridiculous noise, Angela was almost so far gone she wanted to ignore it, but reality yanked her away, the ringtone associated with emergencies only.

' _Damn it._ ' Angela cursed in her mother tongue, pushing bangs from her eyes and answering the call, remembering she was Overwatch's primary medic in such cases even if she was on temporary leave.

'Hello?'

"Heya, Luv. So sorry to bother you, and I know you gotta rest and everything, but I got a doozy for you!"

'What is it?' Angela attempted to sound far less bothered than she honestly was with the bubbly Tracer.

"Yeah, um, I have Widowmaker with me, and I sorta kinda need your help."

'…Pardon?'


	29. XXIX: Tracer

Tracer

Widow had finally settled since nearly taking a chunk out of Lena's hand. Although Lena had decidedly stuffed the assassin's mouth with a small rag from the first aid kit, Widowmaker barely stirred. This wouldn't have been terribly unsettling if the woman was sleeping…but she wasn't. She was evidently quite awake, shifting in place with a touch of discomfort.

'Sorry again, Luv, but we're almost there now.' Lena held fast to her steering, her hand throbbing with blood soaking through the bandage she had hastily applied. However, the Overwatch agent was in fairly high spirits, for she thought she had ventured on a mission of impossibility, only to arrive back to base with minor injuries and one of Talon's best in tow. Ideally, Angela could help bring the true Amelie back, and then they had quite the capable shot potentially in their ranks. True, it was a somewhat selfish, self-induced mission, and sometimes Lena herself wondered why she had gone to such lengths, but it felt good to follow through with a new mission since Overwatch had been brought back. She felt as though she had failed a little more frequently than desired lately.

It was quite dark out by the time Lena saw Overwatch Gibraltar coming into view. She radioed the watch towers and soon saw lights blinking to help ease her tiny aircraft into the loading bay. The night crew guided her into place, although it was hardly necessary, and Lena patched a call through to Winston first.

"Please hold." Athena's voice requested while the Overwatch's maintenance crew did a circle check of Lena's vehicle as a precautionary.

'You got it, Beautiful.' Lena unbuckled herself and moved to where Widow lay, her "captive" staring at her with tired, dazed eyes; nothing like the killer gaze she had had prior to what seemed like some form of seizure that knocked her nearly senseless.

'Oi. Not looking so hot, little miss. I'm gonna get Angela to take a look at you .P., okay?' Lena felt Widow's forehead with the back of her non-injured hand, sensing a rise in the woman's temperature. 'Can't catch a break, huh? No worries. I'm sure Ange has something in her cabinet of surprises to help.'

Widow blinked, and then shook her head slowly, appearing far more vulnerable than ever before. She was perpetually in a state of fierce superiority and power, even when having a mental breakdown, but this was a first for Lena's observation, and she had to shake the sudden switch it flipped in her already suppressed desires toward this physically attractive assassin. It was something of a rebound interest, Lena knew, for she had displayed as much even with Sombra, and thus, in respect to Emily, Lena stayed focussed.

'Don't worry, Luv; we're the good guys. We won't do anything to hurt you. Promise.'

Widowmaker hardly looked convinced, but Winston's voice over the speakers of the aircraft interrupted further conversation.

"Lena? You're back?"

'Yep! Heheh! Can't get rid of me that easily, you know?'

"Thank goodness! Oh! That's really a relief! If something happened to you…"

'You'd have Jack on your case forever and ever!'

"Er…quite right."

'I also have someone else here with me. One guess who it is.'

"You didn't…!"

'Heheh! Yep, yep! Her head is in rough shape though, so I was wondering if Ange is around.'

"Angela? Well, um, yes. I believe she arrived back a little while ago according to the records. She was out for a drink with Fareeha Amari."

'Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! What?' Lena recoiled, but knew it was something to inquire about later, for Widow was more or less a ticking time bomb and needed to be dealt with first and foremost. 'A-anyway, I'll call her up myself, then. We'll have ourselves a real chat after I get Widowmaker situated. Sound peachy?'

"Yes. That would be good. But…uh…maybe in the morning?"

'Oh. Heh. Right. Guess it's kinda late. You got it, big guy. Lena out.'

"Take care. Welcome back, Lena."

'Good to be back.'

The speakers clicked off, and Lena pressed the side doors open, waving to the receiving bay's crew members. When they noticed Widowmaker cuffed and gagged, Lena had to giggle at their utterly dumbfounded reactions. Both men were wide-eyed, looking to one another for some sort of response.

'I play rough.' Lena teased, knowing it would drive the poor boys wild with imagination. It was the least she could do for the red-eye shift workers. 'Leave her be for now, friends. Just gotta connect with Angela first.'

'Right…' The older agent responded, continuing to follow through with the inspection of Lena's aircraft to ensure it hadn't been tracked or damaged during the trip.

'Athena? Can you dial Angela for me? Use her private connection so she knows it's important.'

"Affirmative. Connecting. Ringing."

Lena waited, hearing the rhythmic buzzing for a little longer than she was anticipating.

'Almost there, Luv.' Lena gave Widow a wink, the woman simply staring back at her tiredly, and rightly so. From what Lena could tell, the poor sniper had been dealing with some nasty experimentation as of late, and this must've been a rare moment of relief thanks to a particularly mischievous hacker.

Finally, a click.

"Hello?"

Lena recoiled slightly. Why did Angela sound so irritated? Was it just her imagination? Unlikely. Angela had a way of always presenting a rather sophisticated and patient demeanor. So, what had Lena accidently done to bother her friend? She decided to simply act normal enough in response. She didn't have time to apologize profusely.

'Heya, Luv. Sorry to bother you, and I know you gotta rest and everything, but I got a doozy for you!'

"What is it?" Ah. There. She was suppressing the annoyance more convincingly now.

'Yeah, um, I have Widowmaker with me, and I sorta kinda need your help.'

The pause was expected, because Lena was certain nobody expected her to actually successfully complete this mission of all things. It was almost comedic, and Lena could imagine Angela's gaping mouth.

"…Pardon?" She finally responded.

'Heheh! Right? I'm gonna have our night crew here help me bring her over to your super exclusive lab. Is that okay?'

"I-I suppose. Yes. I'll be right there."

'Sorry again, Ange. I owe you big time.'

"You certainly do, Lena. I'll speak with you further soon."

'Roger!' Lena heard the intercom disconnect, and she leaned over Widow, the overwhelming sympathy for the woman that had forced Lena's hand hurting her heart again. 'I'm gonna have to keep you cuffed and whatnot, 'kay? Sorry, Luv. Don't know when you might have another attack, right?'

To Lena's surprise, Widow nodded slowly, still locking eyes with her when she could.

'Quit staring, pretty lady; might give a broken-hearted girl the wrong idea.'

* * *

Lena had Widow brought to Angela's lab via a stretcher, and she was sure to thank the Overwatch agents who helped her do so with her usual charm and social appeal. What surprised Lena, however, was the fact Fareeha was in the lab as well. Angela was quite adamant about not allowing too many individuals in her personal space of work unless absolutely necessary. Lena herself expected to be dismissed quickly enough, yet Fareeha Amari remained, sitting like a statue near Angela's desk.

Curiouser and curiouser. They had been out together as well, from what Winston said. What developed between the two women while Lena wasn't looking? Was it really just a new friendship?

'Heya, Fareeha! First time meeting face-to-face, huh? I've read loads about you. Doin' some wicked things already! Sorry our introduction couldn't be under better circumstances.'

The woman nodded sheepishly, but then stood up, her tall physical appearance somewhat intimidating. She seemed to be holding herself together well enough, but Lena could certainly understand if she was struggling with the current patient's presence.

'It's an honour, Tracer. You are but another hero I've been blessed to meet much sooner than I ever would have dreamed.'

'Just Lena is fine, Luv.'

'…Okay.'

'We'll chat later, kay? Promise.'

'Yes. That would be nice.'

Lena gave the lovely woman a wink, and then turned to Angela, who was already doing her preliminary check-up on Widow, having opened up her shirt, pulling at the strings that tied the rather sexy piece together. Lena turned her gaze away in embarrassment, finding the quick image she had managed to consume overly stimulating despite only being a moderate amount of Widow's cleavage.

'I'll need to sedate her to truly get to work, I believe.' Angela concluded readily. 'My understanding is that her mental state is in constant flux, correct? She has the potential to lash out at a moment's notice?'

'Pretty much; yeah.' Lena had to admit. Seeing the way Widow's yellow eyes fluctuated about the room in rising panic bothered her, but it was for her own good. It had to be this way. She was still far too dangerous to not bind properly.

'Then I am not leaving.' Fareeha made very clear.

'One of us should rest, Fareeha. You may be needed on a mission tomorrow. Talon could very well attack in an attempt to reclaim their best assassin. Do not overburden yourself for my sake.'

'I'll be fine. She will not be given the chance to hurt anyone else I care about.'

'…Fareeha.' Angela's voice softened, but she eyed the younger girl somewhat desperately.

So, Fareeha knew. Lena supposed it was part of Ana's official file, and it wouldn't take her daughter long to do the basic research upon arriving. Still, she was handling herself very well. That was a soldier for you, Lena assumed. Additionally, Fareeha's last comment paired with Angela's barely restrained discomfort suggested something interesting. Was it actually possible that…?

'I will need privacy to work adequately on this particularly difficult subject. Indeed, I wonder when the next opportunity to rest will be.' Angela went on, and Lena was hardly surprised. She herself would rather remain, but she knew Angela and her methods well enough to also be aware that Widow's best chance at seeing some form of recovery would be found when Angela could be completely and utterly focussed on the task at hand.

'You're in good hands, Luv.' Lena knelt beside Widow, and she decided to look at Fareeha, pleading with her eyes. 'Thanks for understanding, you know? It's not her fault. Not at all. You're doing the right thing by joining Overwatch. Talon is the enemy. She's just a victim.'

Fareeha's strong jaw tightened, but she nodded regardless.

'I know. I do. But it doesn't make this an easy encounter.'

Lena smiled in understanding, glancing to Angela, who was already getting some tools together and preparing her other machinery, the sudden simultaneous humming of all the devices bringing the impressive lab alive.

'She's a keeper, Ange.' Lena couldn't help but tease, and although Angela bit at her lip slightly, she played a convincing poker face.

'Indeed.' Is all she would give, and it wasn't enough to convince Lena to make any solidified claims.

'Alrighty. I'm gonna head out, Luv. I'll be around though, got it? Won't be getting rid of me that easy. Heheh!'

'My thanks.' Angela muttered, narrowing her focus.

'Are you sure, Angela?' Fareeha clarified one final time.

'I am. I will take the proper precautions, and I will also have my emergency call function prepped just in case. This is not the first time I have handled a patient that could just as easily take my life. I'm a big girl, Fareeha. You know this.'

'I am aware.' Fareeha hesitated, perhaps still new to how absorbed Angela could become when it came to her work. 'Just…please be careful.'

'I will.' Angela finally met the other woman's eyes, smiling in a gentle yet mysterious way in Lena's opinion. She had never seen the doctor make such an expression. The plot thickened.

'Whelp. Off I go…!' But just as Lena was about to depart, an iron grip managed to grab at her wrist, Widow's flexibility amidst bondage impressive all on its own. Lena looked down and saw the desperation in her "captive's" visage anew. This was a rare spectacle, indeed, and when she wasn't so out of her usual mind, Widowmaker would likely be incredibly embarrassed by her tentative and vulnerable behaviour, although Lena found it utterly adorable in contrast to her usual persona.

'Ange works best on her own, Luv. I'll be back as soon as she's done and you're awake. Trust me; she's probably the only one in the world who has a shot at helping you.' Lena swallowed, her throat tight suddenly. 'Don't look at me like that, kay? You're breaking my heart a little bit.'

'My thanks.' Angela cut in abruptly, injecting Widowmaker's neck with the necessary drug to almost immediately knock the Talon agent out. 'You distracted her admirably.'

'That…wasn't what I was going for.' Lena watched Widow's eyes flutter, her long lashes hypnotizing, and her pouty lips overly sensual. It was evidently dangerous to look at this woman for too long. She had been through far too much. Widow was due for some happiness. She deserved that much, at least, if it was possible. Once her grip lessened to nothing, Lena stepped away, making it to the door of the lab finally, Fareeha close by.

'Thanks, Ange. Really.'

'Of course.' Angela muttered, observing Widow's arm and removing more clothing to allow for a proper intravenous therapy.

Once Lena had Fareeha outside the lab, she hastily addressed the woman proper, clapping her hands together in a prayer-like fashion.

'I'm sorry! Really!'

'Hm?' The taller girl cocked her head slightly.

'It wasn't her. Like, really her. Talon's messed with her head something awful, and she's been totally brainwashed. They experimented on her and basically created a weapon with Amelie Lacroix as the base. Crazy messed up stuff!'

'I understand all of this already. I've done my fair share of research. It's part of the reason I wanted to join Overwatch so desperately. As you said: Talon is my enemy, not the result of their twisted morals.'

Lena breathed out in a sigh of relief. That was that. Thank goodness. Fareeha hid her anger well, for anyone would still have an inkling to exact some form of revenge against the person responsible for their mother's death no matter what the circumstances. Ana had a way of hiding her emotions as well, although far more easily, it seemed. Still, Fareeha was something else in her own right.

'You aren't leavin' this doorway, are you?' Lena decided to change the subject.

'I'm not.'

'Ange'll be fine. Besides, Winston's sure to already have some grunts on the way to make sure nothing insane goes down. You still gonna stay?'

Fareeha thought about this, shaking her head in defeat after a moment.

'When I know Angela is protected properly, I will rest, as she suggested. Anything less and she will likely be frustrated with me.'

'You know it.' Lena giggled. 'She seems super soft and angelic, but Ange gets what Ange wants when it comes to this stuff. Best just listen to her most of the time.'

'You're right.'

'Course I am. Which brings me to my next question.' Lena shuffled in, lifting her hand to her mouth and covering the side of it to suggest secrecy. 'What's the deal with you and the famous Dr. Zeigler? Did someone come in and manage to sweep Ms. Mission Impossible off her feet? I've seen so many guys try and fail it could make a gal dizzy. You two, on the other hand, seem super close. Like _really_ close.'

Fareeha thought about her answer carefully again. She was a cautious soul, which was good, but annoying for Lena who was curious as anything.

'I am fortunate enough to call her a very good friend. I've idolized all of you for so long, and these past weeks have been like a dream. Even speaking to you like this…is unbelievable.'

'Aw, shucks. Now you're just flattering me. But that's all? Really?'

'Yes. That is all. What else could you mean?'

'Um, like, "love" obviously?' Lena went for the jugular, but Fareeha only twitched slightly, her military training enabling her to become as stoic as necessary. 'The rest of the crew might not be able to pick up on the signs I was grabbing, but you're talking to someone who's been playing for the other team ever since I could, and I get how this kinda thing goes most of the time. What was going on in _there_? Major sexual tension.' Lena paused, thinking about it further and somewhat regretting putting Fareeha on the spot after everything that had _just_ happened. 'Or I was totally projecting. That's possible, too.'

'Maybe.' Fareeha gave the one-word answer, and Lena decided to leave it at that. She wouldn't force anything; not now especially.

'Sorry. My bad. Not the best first impression, I know. Can't keep the mouth shut sometimes.'

'Not at all.' Fareeha smiled, and it was quite a pretty sight. 'You're exactly the kind of person I hoped you would be. You risked your life for someone who tried to kill you, seeing how she was suffering. I still have so much to learn about being a hero. You're an example, to be sure.'

'Hahah! Well, that kinda flattery will get you everywhere with me, Luv.' Lena waved Fareeha off prior to stretching, reaching for the sky as she did so. 'Anyway, I'm totally exhausted, so I'm gonna hit the hay. Lemme guess: you're still staying right here until relief arrives?'

'Yes.' Fareeha grinned.

'Figured. So it goes, I guess. If something _is_ goin' on, I can already tell that Angela is one lucky lady.'

'I will always be the more fortunate one.' The other girl batted away the compliment.

'Oi. You two are funny. Anyway, goodnight!'

'Goodnight, Lena. It was an honour.'

'Go on! Go on! Heheh!'

Lena just about made her exit, but then a funny thought passed through her mind, and she turned her head halfway with a sparkling smile.

'Oh! And if you ever need advice about anything – and I mean _anything_ – make sure you swing by. I got loads of experience with, you know, this Overwatch gig, fighting Talon, dealing with omnics, making love to other girls…'

'Er…I'll be sure to take you up on that offer, if need be.'

'Righto, bucko. G,night again!'

Lena was satisfied with that. She may have made a questionable initial impression, but she was honestly elated about the idea of Angela _finally_ having an actual romantic interest in someone. Again, Lena could have been projecting her own muddled mind, but it was a fair enough distraction…until she was alone with her thoughts at last, navigating the dimly lit corridors of the residential sector of Overwatch Gibraltar. When Lena finally made it to her room, she stripped down naked, tossing on a tiny pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, and then flopped face first on her bed.

 _That_ was quite the mission. What started off as a task to recruit Lucio (a loose end Winston had hinted at tying up somewhat recently in one of his many messages to his good friend) quickly warped into a suicide outing to abduct one of Talon's absolute deadliest members. Lena had faith in her abilities, but even she couldn't shake doubts from intercepting her optimism when entering enemy territory so readily.

However, all it took was a thought of Widow's pained expression near the end of it all to convince Lena she had made the right decision without a hint of doubt. Not only that, but…

Lena turned onto her back, lifting her phone into the air and tapping at the various apps, opening them all without a purpose, unable to dismiss the thoughts passing through her spiraling mind. Emily hadn't written her. That was over. It really was. Lena missed her. She missed her so much. She wanted to call the girl. She wanted to laugh with her. She wanted to look into her smart eyes and lean in for a kiss. She wanted more. She wanted to touch and be touched in return. She wanted to hear her girlfriend's restrained groans as her body warmed within Lena's petting. She wanted to take off her clothes, revealing the lightly freckled skin beneath.

'Ugh…' Lena verbally huffed. 'Stop thinking about her. It's not fair to either of us.'

But seeing Angela and Fareeha sparked Lena's imagination. There was such an obvious connection of some kind; something Lena and Emily had had. It was painful to see, because it's what Lena had given up willingly so she could use her unique abilities in a positive way and help the world.

'I need a distraction, that's all.'

And the time traveler's mind presented Widowmaker, the mere image of the other woman making Lena's groin ache in desire.

'Not good. Not good. Not good…' Lena murmured, pulling a pillow to her face. 'Totally not happening!'

But she was riled up, missing the consistency of being loved by Emily, and wishing for some form of sexual release after such a trying few days. Was Widowmaker serious about allowing Lena to "show" her how two women could be together? No. Of course not. But the mere suggestion hadn't left Lena alone, and although she had done everything in her power to not think about the overly attractive Widowmaker in such a way, the scenes were passing her mind by, and Lena literally pushed another pillow between her legs, preventing her twitching hand from performing anything at all on her own person.

'Jesus…I'm downright randy tonight. That bloody lady is a menace.'

Normally, going for a run was an option when Lena needed to clear her mind, but it was so late, and she really was exhausted. If she held out long enough, surely she would fall asleep given enough time. However, her day had been utterly consumed by Widowmaker, and now that she finally had a sane minute to digest it all, her current situation didn't even feel real.

Lena flipped back onto her stomach, opening the assassin's file, reading over the details anew. She nearly had the information memorized, and yet it was still difficult to digest completely. At least Widowmaker was in good hands. Hell, if she could become an agent of Overwatch, that would be even more of a boon. Angela was a miracle worker, after all.

Then Lena could call her Amelie, and she could _actually_ show her the ropes. That wouldn't be too terrible. In fact, maybe that's precisely what Lena needed at this point. She had to admit, when Widowmaker wasn't trying to kill her, there was this undeniable draw to the woman. Was it because they were so evenly matched facing off against one another? Lena had learned that one could learn quite a bit about another when locked in combat. Omnics were a different matter entirely, but humans fighting for their lives bore their souls in the midst of it all, and Lena had participated in not one, but two deathmatches with Widowmaker. The first had begun this strange fixation, the second solidified a notion in Lena's heart she didn't even fully understand yet, only knowing she had to help Widow for the injustices she had endured in her life at the hands of Talon.

'Professional ballet dancer, huh?' Lena smiled to herself. 'Her _job_ was to be full of emotion, and Talon did _that_ to her?' Lena stared at the profile shot of Widowmaker, shaking her head and thankful her eyelids were beginning to be heavy enough to override the excitement her body felt the need to tease her with once it was time to relax at last.

'Who are you really, Amelie Lacroix? Guess that's a question I can have for a spell now…'


	30. XXX: Pharah

Pharah

The moment Tracer was gone, Fareeha finally had a chance to digest everything that had happened over the past few hours. She stood at attention, her hands behind her back, and appeared to be the perfect sentinel for Angela as she worked, but within the old soldier's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts that she had difficulty grasping entirely without her chest literally hurting as though her heart was about to stop altogether.

It had started during her first viewing of Angela in her casual clothing, with but the slightest bit of cleavage revealed on the older woman truly testing Fareeha's commitment. She successfully managed not to look in most cases, although she had the advantage of loving the sight of Angela's gorgeous blue eyes and golden-blonde hair. From there, Fareeha knew she was completely smitten. The last time she had felt emotions so strong she was but a much younger woman, learning of her mother's murder at the hands of the same individual that the girl she cared so very deeply for unbiasedly attempted to heal on many levels.

A rather ironic scene, she supposed.

Nonetheless, never before had Fareeha felt the way she did on the date with Angela. She had entertained enough men in her life. Hell, she had even told one she loved him. It was a lie. She knew it was a lie. But it was a lie she needed to convince herself of, because she was soon naked and feeling his heavy body upon her own, his powerful hands invading her privacy. It was supposed to feel good. It didn't. She thought the reason was because it was her first time. It wasn't.

When the weight of her confiscated emotions overtook her on another occasion, she allowed the opportunity to convince her experience with "love" to be circumstantially influenced. This was another man she didn't love. She had enough pride to at least not claim as much. It didn't feel good that time either.

Looking at Angela. Driving with Angela. Drinking with Angela. Talking with Angela. Getting to know Angela in a way few could manage. It all felt better than any sexual encounter Fareeha had humoured. It was the missing piece in a puzzle Fareeha didn't care to contemplate in years. It was enough, to be perfectly honest. She almost didn't think she deserved anything more.

Admittedly, Angela's evasiveness during the date when the subject matter even hinted at her and Fareeha's relationship becoming anything more than just friends hurt. However, Fareeha was more than willing to cast her own feelings aside if it meant Angela was comfortable with her as a person. Perhaps it would become unbearable in the future, the younger woman had considered, but in the moment, she was content.

And yet, when she thought the night was over, and she was rewarded enough with the mere opportunity to carry Angela (like the princess she was in Fareeha's mind) back to her room, Fareeha was satisfied. Did her chest ache somewhat from the possible fact that she and Angela may only stay friends? Of course. She was past the point of attempting to deny what she felt. But she cared about Angela so much that her happiness and comfort is what mattered, at the end of the day.

Perhaps that's why what Angela did just before Fareeha was about to leave took her mind to a euphoric place she didn't know existed. A kiss. Angela kissed her. Fareeha thought she knew what it meant to kiss someone. She was wrong. The moment – the second – Fareeha felt Angela's lips on her own, a surge of electricity fueled by affection jolted her to the core. When Angela's mouth began to open as Fareeha held her slender waist she, perhaps shamefully, considered how she was going to somehow navigate the unknown world of making love to another woman, because Fareeha wanted to. She truly did. So enraptured was she by Angela that having any form of caution seemed completely ludicrous.

So, with her desires settled, Fareeha processed everything that had occurred, and knew she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face outside of Angela's lab. She covered her cheeks and shook her head in near frustration. She couldn't control the joy leaking onto her physical appearance. If her relief came now, the fellow Overwatch agents would bear witness to her unfiltered happiness, and she would then be rather embarrassed by the display.

Indeed, until Fareeha had the chance to actually speak with Angela about what had transpired, she attempted to be reasonable, and not allow her imagination to get ahead of reality. Once the two women had the opportunity to reach a mutual understanding as to where they stood relationally, _then_ Fareeha could authentically revel in her present situation. Before that point…

A small transport vehicle sounded further down the hall, and soon enough, Fareeha heard the footsteps of those very agents she had considered. Fortunately, she was able to place a neutral expression on her person and saluted her colleagues.

'Fareeha Amari?' The, presumably, higher ranked individual confirmed.

'Yes. Thank-you for your help.'

'Get some rest. You look exhausted.'

'We'll take it from here. Thanks.'

'Of course.' Fareeha paused, knowing she was utterly unwilling to risk a thing. 'Identifications, please.'

'Pardon?' The younger agent scowled.

'Identifications, please.' Fareeha repeated, not missing a single beat. She saw the man recoil slightly, likely unused to such women.

'Will this do, Miss Amari?' The superior revealed his card, and Fareeha took it, ensuring all the difficult-to-knowingly replicate quirks of the I.D. badges were present.

'Yes.' She turned to the younger recruit again.

'I'm with him.'

'Presumably. Identification, please.'

'Just show it, Duncan.'

"Duncan" groaned, digging out his card and practically thrusting it into Fareeha's hands.

'My apologies for the inconvenience.' Fareeha began, seeing that both men were legitimate Overwatch members. 'But behind these doors is one of our most valued members of the organization. Her abilities are matched by none that I know of, and should something happen to her because of me, I would never forgive myself. That is all. I expect our mutual maturity will allow us to treat this basic protocol as anything but an attempt to insult a co-worker.

The men appeared to soften then, Duncan waving Fareeha off politely now.

'Well, she _is_ the angel of Overwatch. Guess it makes sense to look after her right…'

'Thank-you.' Fareeha gave a nod and then, albeit reluctantly, left her post only because she knew Angela would be irritated if she put her own wellbeing to the wayside for the doctor. Still, Fareeha extracted her phone from her pocket and tapped a quick message to the beautiful woman that occupied ninety-percent of her current mindset. She kept it simple, aware that's how Angela would appreciate it.

"Good luck."

* * *

She should've been resting. Angela told her to rest. But Fareeha found more comfort and relaxation from the sound of weights clanging against one another in a controlled, rhythmic fashion. She had gone to her room only to change into a dark blue sports bra and black leggings, otherwise, she was the only agent present in the state-of-the-art facility that allowed members of Overwatch to maintain their physique or improve upon it further. Fareeha had utilized the perk multiple times already, and she valued the investment soundly, breathing out as she lowered the bench-press machine, and then sucking in while she pushed the rather heavy load upward, her chest expanding and contracting as necessary.

Fareeha completed her final set on that particular muscle group and sat up, wiping some sweat from her forehead and taking a big gulp of the water from her bottle. She usually played some hip hop or rock, but this night called for nothing. She celebrated the silence and her thoughts, incapable of not thinking about Angela in some capacity; especially the brief intimate moment they had shared.

The workout _was_ helping, however, because Fareeha's thoughts were more focussed and less in the clouds like the schoolgirl she shamefully felt like with how much her heart insisted on flipping.

The night went on, and although Fareeha knew not to expect a reply from Angela quickly, she wouldn't deny that she had her concerns about the other woman, the work she was likely putting into evaluating Widowmaker's condition nothing simple. Fareeha wished she could help, but science and the medical field were anything but her specialty. She would only be in the way, and when she had caught a glimpse of Angela in a focussed, serious state; Fareeha knew it was wisest to give her space no matter how much she didn't want to.

Another set. Breathe. Drink. Sit. Think. Another set. Another set. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Fareeha was glistening after almost an hour and a half of lifting weights of every variety. She was especially motivated this night, valuing the tearing of her muscles, knowing they would only rebuild stronger and more capable than ever before. She was serious about being Angela's personal bodyguard, but Overwatch wouldn't let just anyone look after their unique angel. Fareeha wanted to stay in peak condition; perhaps become even more fit, if she could manage. She didn't want to hear any excuse denying her of the role she wished to play.

Fareeha downed the rest of her drink, staring at herself in the enormous wall mirror and the way her body shaped within her clothing. Was she…attractive? Could Angela think about her with the same desire Fareeha did toward the Swiss doctor? Could Fareeha give Angela the pleasure she deserved if they ever got to the point of making love?

Fareeha swallowed, a lump in her throat making the act difficult.

These were questions she had _never_ cared to contemplate, and yet now, they were at the forefront of her mind so late at night in an onsite gym of all things. It felt so silly. But at the same time, Fareeha had never also felt so very alive and aware of herself on a personal, conscious level. She knew she was possibly getting ahead of the present, so the young woman attempted to reconfigure her thought pattern to _finally_ getting some actual rest after a quick shower.

'Need someone to tuck you in, Ms. Amari?' A voice interrupted Fareeha, making her jump she was so distracted.

'Excuse me?' Fareeha turned to the source of the speaker, a strange chill stroking her spine. It was the masked woman from the meeting in Overwatch Gibraltar's main tower. She was obviously an influential member of the team, but that's all Fareeha knew about her besides her insistence on wearing a rather mysterious accessary to hide the entirety of her face.

'It's just so very late, isn't it? I'm leading the night watch this evening, and when Athena reported a newer recruit utilizing part of our training facility so deep into the night, my interest was piqued, one might say. I do like a soldier so dedicated to bettering their body for the fights ahead.'

Her rank was high enough to be the commander of the night watch. This meant she was a Master or Grandmaster. Those ranks weren't handed out easily, which coloured Fareeha impressed. The woman also sounded a little older, which was even more interesting.

'I…had a lot on my mind. Exercise has always been a good outlet for me.'

'A healthy one, too!' The woman seemed to agree, somehow easing Fareeha into a strange sense of nostalgic comfort.

'I was just finishing up. It's been a long day.'

'They tend to be like that in this line of work, Fareeha.' The tone in the woman's voice shifted, and Fareeha blinked, an uncanny notion of adolescence picking at her brain, then.

'That's true.' Fareeha squinted, as if doing so would help her see past the mask.

'This? It helps with questions. My face tends to encourage them, and I haven't the patience or time anymore.'

'You were in the first war?' Fareeha pried, forgetting she was shimmering with sweat, and stepping forward only a couple of times.

'I was.'

'With Jack, Reinhardt, and…?'

'All of them. Angela included'

'You're one of the legendary heroes?'

'The concept still baffles me.'

Fareeha caught her breath, the intonation aged, and the way this woman talked with a twinkle in every word ripping her childhood open from all the seams. Impossible. It was…impossible. And even if it _was_ possible, why now? Why…now and not…?

'Take off your mask.' Fareeha whispered.

'Now, is that any way to speak to a superior officer?'

'Please. Take off your mask.' She repeated. Fareeha's hands shook. Her teeth chattered. Her legs wobbled. Her heart hammered.

'…It was my intent from the moment I knew you had joined the fight, Fareeha. But…I suppose some form of cowardice settled into my plans, and a maddened idea that you were better off without knowing replaced any courage I had. I will say I'm sorry, but I understand if you cannot forgive me right away.'

Fareeha's face contorted, and her eyes were already burning.

'Take off…the mask…' She whimpered. How quickly a world could change. In two instances within twenty-four hours, Fareeha's understanding of her present day had shifted dramatically. She knew she was elated over the first, but conflicting emotions waged all-out war in her mind now. Until the mask was removed, she couldn't control what she felt.

'Angela's words finally convinced me after I thought about it enough. Those words…and the upcoming missions. I'm sorry, Fareeha. I'm truly sorry.'

Fareeha looked through a blurred vision as the woman unfastened her mask, slowly extracting it from her elderly visage to reveal a tattoo not dissimilar to Fareeha's own over her eye, and a face that clearly contributed to shaping a sobbing daughter's.

' _M-mother…!_ ' She said in a rare use of her homeland's rooted language.

' _My beautiful daughter, you have made this pitiful woman so incredibly proud._ ' Ana returned.

Fareeha hesitated, but instinctually ran to her mom, grabbing her and enveloping her in an embrace that Fareeha had to actually reach down to commit. She was so much taller than her mother now. She was so much stronger. The grip that held her back was still that of a seasoned warrior, but even Ana was subject to Time's cruel consequences, and the reality of the years lost only served to torture the Amari daughter further.

'Why…!?' Fareeha sobbed.

'For reasons…that seem so very foolish now…' Ana's voice shook as well. 'Perhaps this old woman is truly becoming senile.'

Fareeha felt Ana's hand stroking her sticky head, and this caused the girl to push away, her cheeks flushing.

'I-I'm sorry. I'm still sweaty.'

'Please.' Ana chuckled, her momentary dishevelment conquered with some effort, it appeared. 'I'd rather have a child covered in sweat and signs of hard work than anything else.'

'Heh. Well, I am frequently that.'

'You are, and it's quite becoming.'

'A biased opinion.'

'True, but you wouldn't be officially a Diamond rank any other way.'

Fareeha sighed, rubbing her brow and shaking her head perpetually.

'You have some explaining to do. I…I still can't even believe this. And…your eye? Is that where…?'

'Yes. That's where the girl known as Amelie or, perhaps more accurately, Widowmaker managed to best me because of a second of hesitation on my part. Foolishness. The battlefield is no place for sentimentality; remember this.'

A jolt made Fareeha's body practically jerk, her mother's curt yet playful tone bringing forth buried memories of bestowed wisdom and training.

'I don't know if I want to hug you again…or slap you, Mother.'

'A fair comment.' Ana shrugged. 'I can willingly accept either.'

'You should.' Fareeha smirked. 'I'll think about it.'

'Perhaps while I…attempt to explain myself to some degree?'

'Only if you join me for a drink of coffee back at my place, Mother. That's my condition.' Fareeha decided, her heart sinking in fear but also rising back up due to the inexplicable relief to know her kin was truly alive.

'I will inform my team that my break is about to be had.' Ana agreed.

* * *

Fareeha allowed Ana into her room and hastily picked up some of her clothes from the floor, piling them into her laundry basket and turning on a small lamp near her bedside.

'Feh. They're treating _my_ daughter like some scrub? You deserve better facilities than this.' Ana giggled. 'Although, I say that, but I wouldn't have given you special treatment if I had a say in the matter either.'

'It's fine. I don't need more than this.' Fareeha went to the small kitchen that had barely enough space to navigate as a single individual, let alone anyone else intruding. She got a pot of coffee going with practised motions, wondering if it was wise of her to participate considering she needed more rest than her mother at this point.

'Of course. You've never been a prima donna. Good to see that hasn't changed.'

'Never.'

Ana wandered a bit, obviously evaluating what little Fareeha's tiny living space had to offer. She hadn't put up any decorations save for a small picture by her bed, one that had most of the original Overwatch members in their prime and Fareeha as a young girl amidst the greatness in all the glory the world's saviors had to offer. Ana couldn't resist picking up the photograph, smiling melancholically at the faces she had known so intimately.

'We were family, then.' She said distantly.

'It really felt that way.' Fareeha agreed.

'They all loved you. I was so proud, as well. You desperately wanted to join the fight eventually, but my stubborn streak – which you have clearly inherited – wouldn't allow it.'

'Heh. And yet, here I am.' Fareeha poured a single cup of coffee for her mother, opting for more water herself.

'Here you are, a shining star already after just one official mission.'

'I might need to thank my strong genes.'

'Perhaps.' Ana took the steaming cup of coffee, blowing into it and seating herself on Fareeha's bed beside her daughter. Fareeha once looked up at this woman, her towering figure so powerful and valiant. Now, the years had been cruel, and although she was still likely very capable, it was doubtful she could be considered one of the best Overwatch had to offer in real combat. Knowledge and wisdom, perhaps, but physical prowess, without the help of modern technology, remained crippled to an extent.

'So,' Fareeha began, a mixture of frustration and love continuing to orchestrate her attitude. 'If you survived Widowmaker's attack, where have you been?'

Ana waited a moment to answer, shaking her silver head as she gave her reply some thought.

'I was on active duty for many, many years, Fareeha. Fighting and killing was all I knew for as long as I was able. When you're the best, you're utilized above and beyond your human capabilities on more than a number of occasions.'

Fareeha's breath got caught, and she thought of Angela. The best of the best…

'I led Overwatch as second-in-command, and carried the weight of the organization's expectations for longer than I should have. All of us suffered by the end, to various degrees, and to keep a long story short, when I was near-fatally wounded by Widowmaker, I took the recovery time needed and extended it for longer than, perhaps, I should have in order to understand what it was I wanted to do with my life.'

'You ran away.' Fareeha summed up Ana's explanation in a few words, and she felt terrible for saying it immediately upon the sounds leaving her mouth.

'Heh. I ran away. Yes. It was selfish…but necessary.' Her mother took the critique boldly, and Fareeha only hurt more.

'Family.' Ana claimed quite simply. 'I decided I would fight again for my family, and for all the innocent families influenced by Talon's actions and the rising second Omnic Crisis.'

'Does father…?' Fareeha began, and Ana simply lifted a finger to her lips, that same, undeniable twinkle in her eye. Fareeha could only nod in understanding, that subject closed for the time being.

'You joined Overwatch even though I told you not to. I am not angry about that. No. I had my apprehensions, but Angela spoke very highly of you. Very highly. What choice did I have but to take her words as truth, for I'm something of a genius, but her abilities extend beyond brilliance measurable. Granted, I put up a stink, as my pride always does. However, I toiled her words in my mind, and decided the coward's way wouldn't be _my_ way again.'

'Angela…'

'You and she have developed an incredible friendship. Incredible because I've never seen that woman connect with or care about someone like she does you. Obviously, she is a wonderful individual, ever challenging science in the attempt to better humanity's quality of life, but there has always – always – been a barrier around her heart and personal life. All of us are pleased to see she has found a true friend she seems to trust and respect. I don't know how you did it, but I certainly encourage the comradery. I know how important such relations can be.'

Fareeha nodded silently. Talking with her mother again was nothing short of wonderful, and she knew it was best not to hold a grudge, no matter how natural it would be to do. She simply wanted to value the fact Ana was, in fact, alive. She wasn't a child anymore. She wouldn't act like one. Ana was obviously human, too, and in a bizarre way, it was somewhat nice to know she was flawed at times as well.

'Angela…is very important to me.'

'It's almost funny, because you always got along better with the boys growing up. Now, one of your closest friends is someone as feminine as Angela Ziegler?'

'Heh. I know. Odd.' Fareeha's face went numb. She knew not to say anything about what her and Angela's relationship might truly be without consulting the doctor first, but it was hard to let her mother assume they were "just friends". It seemed like a betrayal to the powerful emotions that ruled Fareeha the moment she thought of Angela.

'We'll all have to lean on one another as the battle intensifies.' Ana grew serious suddenly, and Fareeha forced the butterflies out of her stomach.

'You alluded to knowing what we might be up against?'

'Yes. Talon is a problem, as always, but the omnic we faced in Volskaya Industries was a monster if ever there was one. We've codenamed it the Berserker type, because its damage output and durability exceed what we've come to expect. It's more organic as a living being as well, which forces Winston to reconsider its entire classification. I worry about the fights ahead, thus, I knew I needed to speak with you at last…before it is too late once again.'

Fareeha shook her head, touching her mother's shoulder and rubbing it softly.

'I will protect you, Mother. The sky is my domain. The omnic will be helpless against me.'

'You are one woman, Fareeha, and you cannot be everywhere.'

Fareeha thought of her desire to be assigned to Angela exclusively as well, and her mother's words rang true. She released Ana, but tightened her jaw.

'Overwatch has overcome insurmountable odds before; we shall do it again. We'll win this fight…and be a family.'

'I hope so, my child.' Ana's single eye seemed drained, but the shine returned, and she tactfully changed the subject anew, her daughter allowing as much for now. 'Speaking of family, is there a grandchild in my future anytime soon, Fareeha, my dear? Your mother has been patient, but you're almost thirty-three now. I don't recommend waiting much longer.'

The contrasting material of discussion unbalanced Fareeha, forcing her to grab hold of the matter haphazardly.

'I-I am not really interested in such things at the moment.'

'Oh? Why ever not? If I could manage to do it; you can. And let me tell you, it is a pleasure I didn't think possible. Why, just looking at you now…it's…truly something.' Ana's voice trembled, and Fareeha couldn't help her eyes burning. Her mother tried to be so strong – and she was – so this moment of vulnerability meant that much more.

'Maybe…someday…'

'We'll have to find you a proper man first, won't we? I admire you being selective, but entertaining a date or two you initially don't see going anywhere is worth the time as well here and there. Perhaps being my daughter is a hinderance? I'm a scary woman, it's true.'

'You're not alive to most, Mother.'

'Oho! Quite right!'

There was some laughter between the two women, and Ana put her cup of coffee down, glancing to Fareeha and reaching up to the left side of her face, touching it tenderly.

'I'm sorry…' She said it again. Fareeha could only close her eyes, putting her own hand overtop of her mother's, nuzzling into the familial affection.

'I know. I…I will try to understand as best I can. Thank-you for coming back to me. Don't do that again.'

'If I can help it, I promise you, Fareeha. I'll fight until the end.'

Fareeha leaned forward, meeting her mother's head and connecting with her one final time for the night, knowing she would be leaving her to finish her shift.

'Good.'

A beat, and Ana stood up, waving her hand in front of her nose comedically.

'Now, take a shower, my love, because…well…you worked hard, didn't you?'

'Hahah!' Fareeha chuckled, shrugging. 'Do we Amari's perform any task with anything but our best, Mother?'

'Ah. I suppose not.'

'I'm sure you're break is over as well. I look forward to helping you win _this_ war, Mother. Do not worry; I am ready. I won't disappoint you.'

'You never have, Fareeha. Ever. I can't say the same about myself, however.'

'We live and learn.' Fareeha consoled.

'That we do, Fareeha. That we do.' She lifted a hand, Ana's broad shoulders smaller, and her overall height shrunken. 'Goodnight, my child.'

'Goodnight, Mother.'

The door slid shut, and Fareeha could only let out a deep gasp, covering her face and knowing the tears were coming. She had held out so well, and she couldn't quite explain why she broke down then, but it was a release her body clearly needed, the events of her day unlike anything from her past. She heard her own voice sobbing, the wetness in her hands slippery and salty. Her mouth twisted, and her neck convulsed. This lasted quite some time, and when Fareeha finally made it to the shower, her eyes were puffy, and her head pounded like nothing else. Nonetheless, the end result of all her muddled emotions was joy, and when she finally lay in her bed, refreshed and revitalized, she checked her phone to find a single message that allowed her to, at last, discover a new form of rest.

"My thanks, Fareeha."


	31. XXXI: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

 _'Why are you so agitated, my love? Work is more trying than ever, and you know there is little I can do about the demands of my job. We are closing in on a big case, and my contributions are imperative.'_

 _He was right. She hadn't been fair then. She knew it._

 _'Indeed. So consumed by work evermore. Why, a marriage between you and this "work" of yours would be far more fitting.'_

 _'My angel! You know this not to be true. I work to make a life for_ us _! Look at our estates! Look at everything we have! But even more so, you know my occupation is important. My place in Overwatch is more vital than ever before. We are closing in on the end of a major investigation. With that concluded, I promise I will attempt to use more vacation days for you and I.'_

 _She softened, knowing his words to be nothing but the truth. She was cruel to make her husband defend himself, but she was growing mental due to her circumstances. Circumstances she was unsure whether or not she should reveal. Agitation came quicker, and her ballet instructor had noticed almost immediately that she couldn't perform as she was known to. She would have to take a leave from the stage. She may never reach the pinnacle of her talent again._

 _It was so very terrifying. It was unplanned. It was foolishness in a time of discord and apprehension. Everywhere. It would become too obvious given enough time._

 _'You promise?' She could only ask._

 _'Cross my heart.'_

 _She finished the rest in her head._

* * *

 _'Sir, the physical results.'_

 _'Hm.'_

 _'Is she awake?'_

 _'Yes. But she is numb. She can barely understand what I'm saying. The neural reconditioning is already on its way. That woman is a monster. I'm confident it's only a matter of time before she joins us officially.'_

 _'Dr. O'Deorain?'_

 _'The very same. Hm. What is this?'_

 _'Precisely what you observe it to be.'_

 _'How irritating.'_

 _'It's only in the early stages, but best to be rid of it now, correct? She'll hardly know the difference before it's too late.'_

 _'Well, I suppose that's the only way.'_

 _'What is this measuring?'_

 _'To an extent, her emotional capacity. I'm merely gauging her initial reaction to the adjusters. If she is to pull off her mission, an element of dulling will be required.'_

 _'The numbers are reading quite high, from what I can tell. Is that normal?'_

 _'No. She's troublesome in that regard.'_

 _'Fascinating.'_

 _'To an outside source, perhaps, but it makes my life difficult.'_

 _'The advantages of leading such a project.'_

 _'Feh. Don't misunderstand. That woman is heading all of this. I'm just an extension of her will. I could never orchestrate something so elaborate.'_

 _'…I see.'_

 _'Get me my tools. I'll perform the operation now.'_

 _'While she's conscious, sir?'_

 _'While she's conscious, yes. Best perform an appropriate test to determine how the process is coming along.'_

 _'Sir…'_

 _'Oh? You discovered your conscience suddenly?'_

 _'…No, sir.'_

 _'Good. Off you go. … And you, my lovely experiment? What have you to say for yourself, hm? You wound me. You truly do. I can only perform the task at hand as punishment. Never do this to us again. Never.'_

* * *

 _'Another headache, my love?'_

 _'Yes. I must apologize. How frustrating, I'm sure.'_

 _'Not so much frustrating but concerning.'_

 _'Where is my medicine?'_

 _'The same medicine that only puts you into a minor coma? My love, it does not work.'_

 _'Then what am I to do?'_

 _'Your appointment with the best doctor Paris has to offer is tomorrow. He will be doing a thorough examination. I won't be leaving until I know everything has been done. We_ will _find out what ails you so.'_

 _'Gerard…'_

 _She closed her eyes on their bed, rubbing her stomach and feeling the nausea coming again. Her husband was a romantic, but ever since her rescue from Talon, she felt unlike herself. She couldn't kiss Gerard the way she used to. She didn't sense his presence the way she could in the past. He made a couple of advances here and there, when it was just the two of them in bed, and yet, she couldn't respond in kind. Even when she attempted to play the part, as was her career, her body betrayed her, showing not a single sign of welcoming, her husband denied lest he wish to hurt her._

 _What was happening to her? It was as though she were walking through water, sounds and sensations losing their relevance with every day that passed._

 _He touched her shoulders in that moment, massaging her gently and kissing her neck the way she used to like. He took the strap of her dress down to her elbow, and continued to caress her, possibly recalling when she would get goosebumps from his breath and groan in anticipation of more. She tried to feel his affection. She leaned into it willingly, but was careful, unsure how close or far he was._

 _'My love…'_

 _'Gerard…' She said his name, but didn't feel his lips until a moment later, her balance thrown. Ever the romantic, believing love could change the world. He was so wise at times, and so childish at others. She pressed her hands upon his chest, her insides twisting in discomfort. She felt like she was going to cry, but couldn't._

 _'I will get your medicine.' Her husband left the bedroom, clearly a touch frustrated. He thought he had lost her. It was flattering he wanted to make love to her so desperately, but her mental state was suffering, and his patience was so committed._

 _She looked into her mirror. She wondered who looked back._

 _The rest of the night was solemn, but hopeful. Gerard catered to his wife, offering comfort in any way he could. He was putting all his faith in the power of the doctor he would take his wife to. He lay beside her, naked save for a flattering pair of boxer briefs, tightly bound to his muscular form. His arm was under her, but she sometimes forgot._

 _'If we don't get answers tomorrow then I will make contact with Dr. Ziegler. She's still quite young, but individuals in the field are calling her the prodigy of our century.'_

 _'My.' She tried to sound enthused, a pinch biting her brain._

 _'Indeed. Apparently booking any form of meeting with her is next to impossible outside of her personal inner circle. Her advancements in nanotechnology is astounding. Her papers are cryptic to any but the greatest minds. Truly a master of her craft; much like you and dancing.'_

 _'Ah. Yes.' She answered, something tugging at the side of her mouth. Dancing. She loved dancing. She…loved…dancing…_

 _'I'm sorry. I do not mean to disturb you while you rest. It is still bothering you?'_

 _'…Yes.' She slurred._

 _'Then goodnight, my love. Tomorrow, we will get our answer one way or another. Wake me should you need anything at all.'_

 _The ceiling blurred, and she heard a giggle escape her lips as words fell out of them simultaneously. Instinctively, her heart toppled into her throat, and the burning in her vision escalated. It was her last chance. Somehow, she knew. She was fading. Dying? Was she…dying?_

 _'Gerard?'_

 _'Hm?'_

 _'Would you…ever want to start a family?'_

 _His voice rumbled in an elated chuckle, perhaps seeing light at the end of the tunnel truly now._

 _'Of course. It would be a dream come true; much like when I took you as my wife. I sometimes wonder if my blessings will be horribly balanced out someday.'_

 _'Would you want…a boy…or a girl?'_

 _'My love, I do believe you are sleep talking.'_

 _'Gerard?'_

 _He didn't hear the desperation in her voice. She couldn't explain the way her mind was being filled with vile poison. Voices infiltrated her senses, whispering murderous suggestions. The idea didn't sound so insane._

 _'Either would be fine with me. So long as he or she was ours.'_

 _She didn't have an answer for him. He may have assumed she fell asleep. He couldn't know her eyes were transfixed on the ceiling, its maddening design leaking into her mouth and filling her veins with destructive matter, clogging her arteries and seizing all of her muscles._

 _'Gerard…'_

 _'You sound so tired, my love. What is it?'_

 _'Gerard…' She wheezed._

 _'Hm. Now I know you're sleep talking. You're hardly stirring.'_

 _'I…didn't know how to…tell you…' Like pushing bricks through her mouth. The words were losing their meaning. She couldn't feel her body against the mattress. Where was she? What was she trying to say?_

 _'Uh…I…uh…I'm…'_

 _Was she even saying anything? A mass rumbled beside her, puncturing her bowels._

 _'No. Don't. You'll hurt the…uh…uh…'_

 _Silence in her reality; screaming in theirs. Ah. This sweet release. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it._

 _'Listen to me. Listen…This is…'_

 _Her stomach twisted, and she held it fast._

 _'Shh. There, there.'_

 _Hollow eyes. Bloody equipment. A murderous endeavour. A murderous intent._

 _She was nothingness. She was lifted by invisible strings, plucked from her life and skewered mercilessly into another. Her eyes flashed in the night, and she sat atop him, her dreams floating into the melting ceiling._

 _'Oh? Is it finally time?' His voice may have been groggy. How long was he asleep? Who even was this man? Was he going to hurt her, too?_

 _'I have waited for this. Fatigue at work is a small price to pay in exchange for – Gah…!'_

 _It was a thick neck, but strength unlike any she knew beckoned her, stroking her arms and tracing the tendons stretching within. He fought back, like the animal he could be, but her nails were long and well groomed. Liquid splurged onto them, and his ability to provide any form of contention evaporated into the oozing platform above his bloodshot eyes._

 _Ah. Tears. Why? Why tears? Why was her face soaked? Why did he stop struggling? What was this nightmare? She heard something collapse onto the ground, and she stumbled, holding her groin and breathing heavily._

 _'There, there. There, there.'_

 _A hollow carriage. A hollowing heart._

* * *

Her voice was coarse, and she tasted blood. A screeching deafened her senses. When would it stop? Who was being tortured? Her mind reconfigured itself as best it could. Widow closed her mouth, and the screaming ended.

"Dr. Ziegler?"

'I'm fine, Athena.'

Widow's eyes blurred into focus, and she saw the blonde doctor codenamed Mercy staring at her. Two men were nearby with guns at ready, both pointed at the bound Widow in what she now knew to be a bed within a lab of some descript. She was captured by Overwatch. Caught by the foolish, foolish girl. Her prey. The hunted became the hunter. How humiliating.

'Amelie? You were having a nightmare. Your neural waves went completely erratic. Your mind is contending with quite the toxin that actively attempts to break apart any hint of the basic elements that make up our ability to feel human emotion. I have successfully administered further temporary relief, but your inner psyche – the one that has been savagely suppressed for so long – is beginning to resurface, and with it some rather unpleasant memories based on the numbers I am reading.'

Widowmaker closed her eyes, a wave of sickness slamming into her person. She controlled her airflow, and narrowed her thought patterns, but images and sensations were infiltrating her to the core, and one notion had the force of a titan: the sight of her husband's dying visage as she pierced his neck with her fingers and collapsed all the muscles around it into themselves.

Then, the other realization finished any hope of resisting.

A horrendous smell filled Widow's nostrils as the projectile spewed from her mouth upward only to splash back down all over the assassin's upper half.

'My goodness!' Angela exclaimed, hastily using the readily available clothes to clean Widow's mess, the stench instigating yet another violent reaction that made the two Overwatch agents step back, but hardly fazed the doctor woman. She simply hummed a small tune as she worked, the gentility of her touch helping, if however minorly. She tossed the cleaners and extracted more, a soft, lavender scent filling the room now and Widow's sense of smell. She changed her gloves, switched out her lab coat, and finished by dabbing Widow's cheeks all the way down to her neck, salty tears practically streaming from her traitorous eyes.

'You have been through a great deal.' The doctor commented, shooing the guards away, at last. A door slid open then closed, the women left alone. 'And from what I have determined thus far, we are hardly through the worst of it. Neural tampering is dangerous to begin with; aggravating the brain further carries a formidable number of risks.'

Mercy was persistent, not tiring from the act of drying Widow's face as the damp intruders wouldn't let up.

'That isn't even mentioning the physical enhancements so crudely implemented.'

Widow's lips trembled, and her stomach ached. Emptiness. This emptiness was so raw and real at last.

'However, for now, you will take a moment to recover while I formulate the most effective way to handle Talon's – or more specifically, Dr. O'Deorain's – horrendous work. The medicine being fed into your I.V. serves as a constant combatant against the formidable toxins consuming your concept of humanity. In time, my personal remedy will remove the threat of losing your mind completely, but the core destruction to your levels of self-identification remain. There is the beginning of my work. Unfortunately, the chance of you losing control and submitting to the alternate persona remains rather high, and therefore, you must remain bound. My apologies.'

The tears wouldn't relent, and Widow could only stare at the ceiling with a stoic expression lest she break down completely.

'I…don't want to feel this…' She whispered, the mere act of talking – of admitting survival when her husband could do no such thing – ripping her heart in two.

'I can only imagine. Your readings nearly compromise my machinery, and that is quite the feat. What you went through…I cannot hope to fathom, surely.'

Widow clenched her eyes shut, the tears soaking into her long lashes. She cracked her teeth together, twitching in an attempt to do no more emotionally.

'A damn, when broken, can never perform its original function anew. You are in my care, Amelie, and there is no need for airs. Please, it is often better to release such pent-up feelings. Indeed, I can only encourage the act.'

Widow wouldn't do it, however. Not for the enemy. The…enemy? This woman was trying to help her, so, how was she the enemy? Who _was_ the enemy? All concepts jumbled together, and Widowmaker shook her head. Why was she here? She deserved to be killed, and yet, these Overwatch imbeciles wasted such time and resources on her for…what exactly?

'Why?' Widow squeaked, her voice still rough, and the idea of speaking turning her innards all over again.

'Why?' The doctor smiled gently. 'It is what I do, Amelie. I have been blessed with the power to heal those who would accept my offer. However,' She paused, a shadow passing over her angelic features. 'I…find myself struggling immaturely due to the pain you have – no matter how victimized you were – caused someone rather dear to me in recent weeks. Quite human of me, I suppose. Lena – or perhaps you know her better as Tracer – practically begged me to assist her in this fool's errand so, should I succeed in reverting you to normality to some degree, please offer her the thanks she deserves for having a bigger heart than I in these circumstances.'

'I…have killed many.'

'You have. Claiming insanity would help your case immensely, but the fact remains that you are responsible for the deaths of dozens, perhaps hundreds, and the impact of those deaths ripple through countless lives. There is the assumption that you will use your skills to help Overwatch should I successfully help your case. I encourage you to consider that outlet as a method for redemption. That is all I wish to burden your mind with at the moment.'

'I killed…' His expression of horror and agony flickered through her subconscious, and she clenched her hands into a fist, breaking her own skin and feeling blood soak under her nails. 'H-hah…I…'

Dr. Ziegler tapped some buttons on the machine connected to Widow and then replaced her fluid pouch.

'Small sessions at a time, Amelie. You need some rest now. We'll build you up slowly. Please calm your thoughts as best as possible. This is a safe place. I only wish to help you.'

'Kill…' Widow heard a voice speak through her numbing lips.

'No. That isn't who you are anymore.'

'Kill…you…' The words stumbled out more.

'As unsettling as that sounds, I imagine even you cannot break free from those bonds. Now, rest; doctor's orders.'

'No…rest…' But Widow had little choice. More toxins. More medication. More experiments. They claimed to be different, but the assassin knew better, and hoped for nothing.

* * *

 _'S-sir! It was a success? Oh! There she is! You're sure to be promoted now! Sleeping again, is she? Hahah!'_

 _'Settle down, good man. And yes; the mission was a resounding success. No more dogs sniffing around the organization for a time. He was a troublesome man, but Talon's lethality, when angered, astounds me still here and there.'_

 _'Using his own wife against him? How cruel…but how brilliant as well! Pity. She is so very beautiful, isn't she?'_

 _'…She is that.'_

 _'So…what now?'_

 _'I have been given a strict outline as to how best prepare her for physical enhancements and manipulation. Dr. O'Deorain will be performing the bulk of experimentation, of course.'_

 _'Ah. That makes sense.'_

 _'…'_

 _'…'_

 _'Would you be so kind as to take these reports to our talented doctor? She has blessed us with her presence in the facility, and I'm sure she would appreciate the updated information on our patient's mental state.'_

 _'Why are we not simply sending them digitally, sir?'_

 _'Dr. O'Deorain is particularly sensitive regarding this procedure. She wants no chance of the data being leaked. We go manual for much of the sharing of numbers.'_

 _'Ah! Of course!'_

 _'Thank-you.'_

 _'I'll speak with you again soon, sir.'_

 _'…There. Alone at last, my lady. We've spent so much time together, and I've done so much for you, yet where has my repayment been? Now, I must give you up. And for what? One can't help but feel sour. Hm? What's that? Your gorgeous eyes tell me there_ is _something you're willing to give? Now that your husband is gone you're free to do as you desire? No. I could never. Please. Don't look at me in such a way. I_ want _to. Oh, any sane man would. But it is simply wrong. How is it wrong? Well…you have a point there, don't you? If you're granting permission, then who am I to hesitate?'_

 _'…'_

 _'So be it. I will make you wait no longer. Pardon me, Amelie Lacroix. I am not worthy, seemingly, but…my lord. You truly are a specimen of perfection. Before you are defiled beyond recognition, allow me to bless you with one final moment of authentic intimacy. If you're fortunate, perhaps we will fill that void I created in your womb together? Wouldn't that be blissfully ironic?'_

 _'…'_

 _'…You're right. Yes, you're right. I would have to gouge that filthy parasite out as well.'_


	32. XXXII: Mercy

Mercy

Her eyes were burning. She put in drops, splashed water on her face, and downed some energy supplements, but her body was beginning to reject further demands. The whiplash from working herself to the bone in Iraq continued to wreak havoc on her basic functionality, and since Angela was still recovering from a rather unpleasant encounter with that strange omnic, the cards were stacked against her.

She was fading.

As a doctor, she recognized the signs. Her brain was actively fighting against her will, pushing to shut down or, at the very least, rest in some capacity. Angela had been working on Widowmaker for almost ten hours straight, the dawn of the next morning already beginning to emerge. The frightening result of her efforts? Angela felt as though she was just beginning. She was _just_ starting to understand the complexities of Widowmaker's condition, and only one other doctor in the world, that she knew of, was capable of warping a human life as extensively as Amelie Lacroix's on every possible level.

Doctor Moira O'Deorain.

That woman was the only soul capable of matching Angela's genius in some way. However, their ideologies took the two women in very different directions. Whereas Angela wished to conduct her research in the effort to better humanity's way of life and time on earth, Moira only desired to push the capacity of the physical form into realms unfit for the mortal self. They were so very similar, but at the same time, they couldn't be more different. Like two sides of the same coin, Angela could practically see Moira's fingerprints all over Widowmaker, and she became sick to her stomach, finally witnessing just how far that woman would go.

Angela scanned her multiple screens, organizing the data she had managed to collect and compile regarding Widowmaker's state. Every result made it harder for Dr. Ziegler to hold any form of grudge against this poor girl. Her heart was conditioned to beat slower, thus causing her skin to turn blue. That wasn't _terrible_ , but it made a normal life a little more difficult. The training Widow had obviously gone through only bettered her physically, so, Angela wasn't concerned about that either. What bothered Overwatch's head of the medical department was the fact she had observed, during the physical, violent intrusion that suggested one, possibly two crude D&Cs that were evidently not done with gentility or care for the patient. Angela wretched when she saw this, only barely beginning to imagine the horrors Amelie had endured while in Talon's "care" before refocussing her attention lest she lose all composure. Finally, and perhaps the most troubling, was Widow's brain, which also happened to be the most delicate and complex organ in the human body. The amount of tampering done to it was staggering, and for Angela to even begin mapping out a plan of action in order to semi-repair it immediately exhausted her. It could take her weeks, and she wasn't sure Overwatch was willing to invest _that_ much time into this endeavour with the second coming of the Omnic Crisis practically bursting at the seams.

Angela leaned back in her chair, sighing loudly and rubbing her face with her shaking hands. She needed to eat something. She also needed some relief. There was no point working further in her current state. She knew this. And, as if knowing precisely where her old friend's mental state was, Lena Oxton entered without even knocking, waving nonchalantly with a final piece of toast dangling in her mouth and a small bag over her shoulder.

'Heya, Ange! Thought you better take a breather. Workin' all night, right? Old habits die hard, I guess.'

Angela pinched between her eyes, her emotions completely tender for many reasons. She wanted to hug Lena, but simply nodded, preparing to relay the news available before a semblance of relaxation could be claimed.

'Certainly. Thank-you, Lena. I am…quite tired.'

'Hey. No worries. I mean, it's kinda my fault you're stuck with this job. I feel pretty bad, okay? What, with you and Fareeha getting all lovey dovey, I definitely owe you one big time.'

Suddenly, Angela felt a second wind enable her to observe Lena's demeanor and see that she was as mischievous as ever, clearly digging for information, as her curious mind often did when it pertained to matters of the heart.

'You're being presumptuous, Lena. We have simply connected. I do not need you spreading baseless rumours.'

'Baseless, huh?' Lena raised a brow, paused, and then shrugged, mercifully dropping the subject out of consideration, surely. 'Alrighty. Anyway, what's the scoop? How's she looking?'

'It's…going to be difficult, Lena. Her brain, and the state it's currently in, makes further handling extremely dangerous. She has, essentially, been brainwashed into believing that her only purpose in life is to kill for Talon. Although I have begun to break apart that illusion with my own basic remedies, she is still terribly unbalanced, and the fact her past is beginning to meld with her misconstrued present only causes Amelie more stress and emotional turmoil.'

'Gotcha…' Lena looked down at Widowmaker, and Angela could see the pure sympathy encapsulating her expression. She was a hero through and through. But…

'Is there something I should know regarding your perception of this woman, Lena?' Angela decided to venture, perhaps to pay her old friend back.

'Huh?'

'Your preferences are no secret, of course, so, I only wondered if there was an element of attraction in association with your selfless deed. Even I can recognize her beauty, and thus, I'm a little curious.'

'Well…' Lena scratched the back of her head, her casual shirt riding up to reveal her tiny waist as she did so. 'If you saw what I did when we fought, maybe you'd get it a bit. Do I think she's pretty? Obviously. But that's just a nice boon. I'm not lookin' to get with her or anything. I just have to help her. She begged me to. She didn't say it, but I could tell, and a hero doesn't ignore a plea for saving like that.'

One thing Lena wasn't very good at was lying. Therefore, Angela nodded, knowing the time traveler said exactly what was in her heart at this moment. What the future held for her and Amelie Angela couldn't say, but there was a sparkle in Tracer's eye that was a little different from before.

'Then I am going to trust you to handle her should I manage to make any progress and she isn't required to be bound anymore.'

'Oi! About that…' Lena dug around the little bag she brought, extracting what appeared to be an advanced piece of jewellery and partnering remote device. 'Tada! Winston whipped it up in, like, two hours. What do you think?'

'A…shock necklace?'

'How did you know?'

'Lucky guess.' Angela scoffed.

'I know, I know. It's totally gross, but it's all we could think of for now as a quick fix. Can't have her just lying there for who knows how long, am I right? Even this is better than that.' Lena held up the trinket, and upon further inspection, Angela couldn't say it was completely hideous. 'I also brought her some clothes. Just some spare ones I can do without. She's a bit taller than me, but otherwise, I think we're good. Think she'll wear 'em?'

'Only Amelie can answer that question, Lena.' Angela's energy waned again, and Lena, fortunately, noticed as much.

'Well, here I am talking your ear off after I came to give you a breather. Sorry 'bout that, Luv. I'll bench the necklace thing for now, I guess?'

Angela shook her head.

'No. If she agrees, feel free to give her the option. I don't think it would be bad for her mental state to move around a little bit. Just…please keep an extremely close eye on her, Lena. She is physically and psychologically compromised currently, yes, but the killer within remains, and I fear I may never remove that part of her persona completely. It could mean risking her life, and I am doubtful I'll be willing to perform such an operation in the near future.'

'Whoa…' Lena blinked. 'Even you're struggling with this? Bloody hell…'

'I'm also having trouble keeping my eyes open. Perhaps a refreshed outlook on the situation is all I need. With that said, you have my thanks.'

'No worries. No worries. I brought my phone, and I just downloaded a rad game, so, I'll keep myself busy looking after sleeping beauty.'

'Very well.' Angela smiled at her friend, and she couldn't trust anyone more to ensure Widow was kept out of harm's way for the moment. With that, Angela left her lab coat and exited her private medical room, seeing that it was already nearly mid-morning, closing in on afternoon. She had been working much longer than anticipated. How time continued to slip through her grasp. It was more and more obvious with every year.

Angela rubbed her eyes again, in a haze of focus, knowing she should sleep as soon as possible. She put on a brave front for Lena, as she always did for others, but she was so very, very exhausted. And yet, now that she was finally alone; truly isolated from work and conversation, her mouth curled into itself and she placed a hand on her chest, her heart flipping when her mind lowered its intellectual barricade and she thought of Fareeha Amari. Not only just the dark-skinned woman herself, but the kiss she had personally instigated.

It was so astoundingly tender. And Fareeha's grip had been so pleasurably strong. Angela could practically feel the woman's hands cradling her waist again, and a shiver ran her spine. When had a man ever made her feel this way after kissing her? Holding her? Prompting physical contact that Angela – on rare occasions – felt the necessity to entertain out of some form of pity? The answer was quite simple, really: never.

'Heh…' Angela hummed, waving to various Overwatch agents who treated her almost like royalty they fumbled with themselves so when greeting her. She was utterly famished to the point that her muddled thoughts and recollections filtered out of her throat in the form of a silly sound, and all Angela could think about now, forcibly neglecting further contemplation regarding a certain Egyptian woman, was her sweet, sweet bed.

'Dr. Ziegler.' The somewhat mechanical voice startled Angela, and she nearly jumped, a wave of fear passing through her veins before she realized it was Genji, his stealthy tendencies rendering him practically invisible at times if he so desired it.

'Genji! H-how are you?' She pushed some messy hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

'Did I frighten you?'

'Only due to my own fatigue. How are you faring since the last mission? Any issues?' Angela equipped her doctor's mask yet again, her inner psyche screaming in agony, wishing only to shut off for some time.

'None, thanks to you, Dr. Ziegler.' He spoke softly, a tone, Angela had noticed, reserved only for her. The doctor suspected some form of interest from the younger Shimada brother on occasion, but he never seemed to move forward with the inkling Angela had. She was thankful for that. She cared about Genji deeply, but that care didn't extend beyond friendship in its most basic form.

'Excellent.'

'I am being sent on another mission.' His intonation saddened, and Angela nodded with some knowledge, allowing the ninja to follow her to the private hall that led to her isolated room, a benefit to being ranked as a Grandmaster within Overwatch's system. She stopped outside her door, wishing she could recall exactly what it was like to be carried by Fareeha to her room.

'Do you need to talk about it?' Angela asked sincerely despite her legs practically wobbling at the thought of her bed being so close.

'I am…conflicted. My mission is to attempt to recruit my brother. I fear…it shall not end well.'

'I see…' Angela sighed. The feud between the Shimada brothers ran deep; Hanzo being the one who had nearly murdered Genji in the first place. What were Jack and Winston thinking? Almost a decade had passed. Did they think it was finally time to secure what was left of the Shimada clan? True, Hanzo's abilities would be valued, but his disposition was problematic unless Genji, Angela supposed, could sway him into perceiving the growing conflict in a different way.

Angela touched Genji's shoulder, seeing his dark, hesitating eyes within his cybernetic appearance.

'This is a fight you should not run from, Genji. You have changed since then, and if anyone can convince your brother which side he should lend his abilities to, it's you. Surely Jack and Winston know this. It is only a matter of days until this Omnic Crisis swells into another war, and I know we are preparing for what promises to be a brutal confrontation. We need any and all extraordinary soldiers to tip the scales; much like in the previous fight. This is a very important mission, and I know you – the new you – can carry it out.'

Genji placed his hand over Angela's, and she nearly flinched back, but didn't want to risk demoralizing the conflicted man. It was merely a gesture of close comradery; nothing more.

'You are correct, as always, Dr. Ziegler. I knew as much, but hearing your words mirror my thoughts calms me some.'

Angela honestly sympathized with her friend, but when his grip loosened, she was relieved to disconnect. Perhaps because of what occurred between herself and Fareeha, but Angela noticed a hint of guilt in her heart for the momentary affection. It was ludicrous, she knew, but the fragility of her and Fareeha's "relationship" still baffled her for now.

Again, after resting, she felt all would become clearer.

'Fareeha Amari took care of you, I see.'

'Quite.' Angela could hear her pitch rise as she answered. How funny Genji would mention that name now. 'Yet my work on Widowmaker has only drained me once again.'

'The fate of one with such talent, I'm afraid.'

'Hm. Perhaps.' But Angela knew it to be true. Even now, in this precise moment, she seemed to give and give and give. It was her purpose in life, and had sustained her for so long. The wall around her heart erected itself as a form of barrier, hardening her soul and mind to continue working and helping others as much as inhumanly possible. The research. The experiments. The failures. The successes. She only wanted to save others. She had a gift, and she only wanted to serve those who couldn't help themselves.

However, this strange notion of selfishness made Angela uncomfortable. She wanted a break. She wanted to have time with a certain other woman. She wanted to put her work on hold for once. It didn't seem right, and yet, she couldn't stop thinking about the elation she experienced being with Fareeha out and about so frivolously.

'I thank you for taking some time for me, Dr. Ziegler. I hope to see you again once this mission is over…possibly with my brother alongside me. How strange that will be after all this time.'

'You have the support of Overwatch, Genji. No matter what transpires, we know you will have tried your best.'

'Yes. My master said as much as well.'

Angela faltered, remembering the insightful omnic. Had he said something to Genji? No. That would be completely out of character. She was being paranoid. About what? What was she scared of?

'Good luck.' Angela nodded, and Genji seemed to linger, but the moment passed, and he saluted her back, practically disappearing into the shadows.

Angela extracted her I.D. badge and entered her room, hearing the gratifying sound of her door closing prior to stripping off her clothes until she was completely naked. She then went to her drawers, changing into some simple red shorts and a plain white t-shirt, both of which were reserved for sleep most of the time, although her t-shirt did have a small logo of Overwatch's emblem on it. She truly didn't have enough casual wear. She had never cared. However, now…now perhaps she might take a moment to at least browse the options that existed in the nearby shops.

Angela let down her hair, placing the elastic and clip in a small jewelry box that had been considerately supplied for her. She splashed her face with some water and downed a sleeping pill, frequently needing such supplements when she worked for Overwatch in the past due to her overly active mind and the trials it was put through on the daily.

'Finally…' Angela muttered, feeling the cushioning of her mattress welcome her, sinking her into bed just as she collapsed to her side.

Even as her mind faded into a natural cycle of rem, the intellect within dissected all the images flickering, seeing Widowmaker and feeling her pain, knowing Lena was experiencing something more than just a passing chivalric fixation, wishing Genji could connect with his brother at last, hoping Angela herself didn't have to hurt anyone or anything this time when her primary goal was to heal and help. Angela's past surfaced, but she shoved the memories away, and yet, that bloody hand reached for her, a familiar, raspy voice asking her why it hurt so much. Omnics killing. Humans screaming. Talon laughing. This war was different from the last. Perhaps Talon had been involved before, but this time, they were playing for the win, and they had the agents to help them do it; Angela knew this all too well.

That woman. That twisted doctor. She was the only one who could stand on equal ground next to Angela. If her research hadn't been so focussed on matters deemed unfit for support, she could have been as successful as Angela without batting an eye. If Moira was working for Talon, then Widowmaker was only the beginning; the prototype. What would the organization release next? Another berserker omnic? Another entity capable of taking even the combined force of Mercy and Soldier 76 down with little effort?

And, amidst all this, Angela had finally begun to feel something in her heart for another human being. She thought it impossible. Why, at thirty-seven, she had every right to decidedly neglect further exploration of such matters. Yet, when Fareeha Amari entered her mind, she reverted back to a young woman, still curious about the notion of love, and perhaps even giddy at the thought she had found the beginning of the emotion.

A small chime sounded at Angela's door, and she pushed herself up, her eyes like sandpaper and her head pounding. How long was she out? It couldn't have been for more than half an hour, if that. Was she to be plucked from her moment of rest so hastily? Was someone mortally wounded? Would she demand her nanomachines work overtime so that she could heal once again? She _still_ needed to perform basic maintenance on herself, now that she thought about it.

The effort required to get dressed and do her hair to be semi-presentable couldn't be surmounted, and thus, Angela simply pressed the button connecting to her intercom and greeted her guest who had made the effort to come directly to her room personally. The fact the individual was even allowed past the various guards on duty meant it was likely another Grandmaster or slightly below such a rank. Jack? Winston? Ana?

'Hello?' Angela spoke out.

There was a beat, and just as Angela was about to speak once more, a voice entered her senses that made her question whether or not she was still asleep.

'Good afternoon, Angela. It's me.'

Fareeha. Angela's whole body buzzed, and she initially was going to change, but mischievously chose against doing so, wondering if Fareeha had had time to consider what their most recent interaction meant.

'It sounds as though you just woke up, however. I…brought you some food from the cafeteria. Would you like me to leave it outside your door?'

'Heh. Déjà vu, wouldn't you say?' Angela giggled, her fingers heating up and her stomach turning in delight.

'Ah. I suppose so.'

'Our first night together.'

'E-er…Yes. That's true, isn't it?'

'You were considerate then, and I see that hasn't changed.'

'Of course not.'

Angela stood up, going to her door and unlocking it with a press of a few buttons. It slid open smoothly, and she watched as Fareeha's eyes took her in, immediately disengaging to meet Angela's face once they had involuntarily observed her somewhat exposed person, although she was still quite tame compared to most.

'Hello, Fareeha.' Angela smiled, and her cheeks almost hurt she couldn't control the joy filling her then.

'Hello.' The other woman answered a little shyly, to Angela's delight. She was in a black tank-top and tight jeans, the slight definition in her dark arms as she held the tray of fruits, a sandwich, and various snacks alongside a glass of orange juice so very attractive. What wasn't attractive, unfortunately, was the weight on Fareeha's visage that seemed to suggest she was quite bothered by something. In time, but it _was_ rather disconcerting.

'And no. You will not leave that tray at my door as though I was some silly shut-in. I have better manners than that. Please, do come in.' It was slightly bold, but Angela felt her delivery was respectable enough, and she extended an arm, allowing Fareeha to do as she commanded, the tall woman placing the tray on Angela's empty dining room table.

'I shouldn't stay long. I know you recently finished your shift with Widowmaker, but I also know you have a tendency to put yourself last on the list of priorities. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday, have you?'

'Guilty as charged.' Angela shrugged.

'I knew it. Here. I tried to get a variety to best suit your tastes.'

'More déjà vu.'

' _Someone_ has to take care of our doctor.'

'And, fortunately for me, it's someone as considerate as you.'

A small pause, and Angela decided to fill it by taking a bite of her sandwich, covering her mouth self-consciously as she chewed. She didn't know how to confront the elephant in the room. It was her first time in such a situation. Was she and Fareeha…lovers now? No. Not quite. That was surely jumping to conclusions. They weren't simply just friends anymore either. If only Angela hadn't gotten that call. The time to discern how to proceed was past, and now an awkward twilight of emotions filled the void. Angela didn't want time to think on her actions, because she knew her analytical brain would cause her to hesitate, as it was doing right now.

She took another bite of her meal, drinking the orange juice and glancing at Fareeha, the other woman scanning the room with some intrigue.

'I haven't had a chance to decorate much yet. Quite plain, isn't it?'

'A little. But you're right; ever since arriving, you haven't been given a break. I should really go.'

Something pinched Angela's heart then, and a stubborn, guarded streak took hold, old defenses surfacing to protect the fragile state of her soul when dealing with such scenarios. She said the words, the tone and implications goaded by fatigue and selfish frustration.

'If you wish to, then by all means.' Angela couldn't hide the venom, and she immediately regretted taking her boiling anger and exhaustion out on Fareeha of all people. The other woman, rightfully so, blinked in confusion, but then grinned handsomely, seeming to relax suddenly.

'Heh. It's nice to see you be honest for once…just like last night. It helps when you're dealing with someone like me.'

A chord was struck in Angela then, her skin prickling with desire, and the way Fareeha smiled at her instantly calming the nerves seemingly festered to a breaking point. She placed her sandwich down, and went to the other woman, looking to the floor and tugging at the base of her shirt.

This was so new…and yet, it was so comfortable somehow.

'My apologies.' She mumbled.

'For what?' Fareeha's voice was so close. Angela could almost feel her breath on her cheek.

'For suggesting I wanted you anywhere but by my side in this moment.'

Fareeha's hands went to Angela's arms, and she couldn't recall ever wanting to be held by anyone so desperately. She thought she was above it. She thought none could fulfill the requirements she herself barely understood. She looked up, and saw two beautiful brown eyes staring back at her, some apprehension in them, but also a sincerely powerful form of affection that could've been frightening.

'So, it wasn't a mistake?' Fareeha whispered, excitement leaking through the skittishness.

'Goodness no. I meant it when I said I cared about you, Fareeha. But…I am also rather unsure how to proceed. You see, I have never reciprocated feelings such as these before.'

Fareeha gripped Angela's arms just before releasing, shaking her head and rubbing her face.

'I am not exactly an expert either, but…'

'Oh, my! You're positively adorable!'

'I'm not. Stop it.'

'You're trying not to smile profusely! Heheh!'

'It's…impossible to prevent it. Ugh!'

'Hahah!' Angela skipped to the other woman, stepping in close and raising her face to see Fareeha's own.

'Are you _that_ pleased at the prospect of being with me?'

'Of course, I am!' Fareeha admitted, heat filling her cheeks. 'How could I not be? All I hear is how you've locked your heart away and how you've never entertained more than one date with a man. What hope did I dare to have when these feelings took me over? The girl that always seemed so far away, on another plain of existence altogether, for whatever reason humours the idea of being in some kind of relationship with _me_!? I fear what form of balance my life will demand to level the joy my heart resonates this very second.'

'My! Our Fareeha can be rather poetic as well?'

'And you tease me further.' Fareeha pouted playfully, still grinning.

'You're right. That isn't quite fair of me, is it? What can I say? The heart decides what it wants, and before I knew it, Fareeha Amari, I was attracted to you in every way. I want to know more and more about you. I wish I could analyze you as I do in my other experiments, because you're utterly fascinating to me. You're obviously a woman, but you exude more allure to me than any man ever has. Perhaps I really do need to ask Lena for her life experience. Although, I do not completely omit the idea of being with a man intimately, it just hasn't struck me as appealing enough to attempt ever.'

'O-oh?'

'Heh.' Angela shrugged, taking a seat at the dining table alongside Fareeha. Based on that reaction, Fareeha couldn't say the same, which caused an intense wave of jealousy and possessiveness in Angela. Frightening if she felt this way and they were _just_ beginning…whatever this was. 'It's sadly true. Thirty-seven with practically no experience. Somewhat pathetic now that I say it aloud.'

'…Not at all. Better no tales to speak of than ones you now know to have been hollow ventures dictated by social expectation and pressure.'

'I see.' Angela confirmed it, and her heart ached terribly. The mere thought of Fareeha being taken by a man tormented her imaginative mind, the image of the darker woman's naked form being appreciated by another beyond infuriating.

'I'm sorry. Really.'

'There is positively no need to apologize, Fareeha. I am the abnormal person here. Why, I should be the one asking for forgiveness, because I am the older woman in the relationship and I can hardly offer any semblance of direction whatsoever.'

'That kiss…said otherwise.' Fareeha was smiling again, and Angela met her gaze, revelling in it and wishing not to allow the recent revelation to bring her too far down.

'Well,' Angela laughed as she spoke. 'When spurred by the moment, I suppose even I can perform the basics adequately.'

'I've never been so affected by the act. It was like something else entirely.'

'Truly?' Angela found _some_ relief in that.

'Yes. Really. And…' Fareeha seemed smaller somehow as she went on. 'You mentioned a relationship. Am I being too forward by assuming we are…together now?'

'In every sense of the word, I would say "yes".'

'You know what I mean.'

Angela giggled again, reaching over and taking Fareeha's hand atop the table.

'What _do_ you mean?' Angela teased anew, but instead of attempting to explain it further, Fareeha pushed on the table, leaning forward and taking Angela's chin gently in her strong hands, angling her face up and meeting the doctor's lips with her own. A small groan of surprise and delight escaped Angela's throat at the forwardness that she didn't mind, and when Fareeha's mouth opened, her tongue lightly brushing Angela's lower lip, the older woman sighed, released from the moment sooner than she would have preferred.

'H-hah…' Angela breathed, her whole body burning in anticipation. So, this was precisely what it felt like to have the urge to procreate as a biologically influenced human being. How amusing that it took another woman to finally flip the switch in Angela she was beginning to wonder if she even had.

'Is that clear enough, Dr. Ziegler?' Fareeha said with lovely confidence.

'Crystal…' Angela touched her own chest, feeling her heart rapidly beat in reaction to the connection. 'However, you do realize it cannot be evident that anything beyond friendship is occurring between us, correct?'

'I assumed as much…' Fareeha glanced away distantly, taking the news well enough. She was a smart girl. It couldn't have come across as a surprise.

'I outrank you, and as such, it would be frowned upon for a superior to be seeing someone below them. It could be viewed as abusing one's position, you see.'

'Of course. It was the same in the army. It wasn't impossible, mind you, but certainly didn't bode well for anyone's career and the morale of the troops. The individual lower in rank would struggle to convince others that they deserved any form of promotion. Jealousy was also a difficult emotion to manage, since many troops were missing their families and loved ones if they were stationed quite far from home. To be exposed to constant flirtatious actions would be taxing.'

'I'm glad we have a mutual understanding.' Angela nodded. 'I am far from embarrassed to be with you, Fareeha. I hope that is clear. Should our relationship become exposed, it shall not be the end of the world, but I expect it would be far simpler to keep our private matters just that for the time being.'

'Yes. In times like these, it would be for the best.' Fareeha appeared conflicted, and made a funny face as she expounded upon her hesitation. 'But I would be lying if I claimed I didn't want to brag a little. I am anything but a prideful person in most cases, but you're so incredible, and the excitement that fills me in this moment is almost painful.'

Angela laughed, because she could relate. Two women in their thirties, and it was as if they had learned what dating was all about at last. It was almost sad, but Angela decided it was well worth the wait, because what she felt for Fareeha couldn't be rivaled. It was like meeting someone she was simply meant to know for the rest of her life. They were compatible, and as a scientist, Angela was well aware of how important that was in the grand scheme of things.

'Then stay with me for a spell, Fareeha.' Angela suggested. 'Would you mind?'

'Not at all.'

'But I need to rest still.'

'I could…watch over you?'

Angela beamed, taking Fareeha's hand and leading her to the bed. The other woman's grip faltered, but Angela was quick to correct any misconceptions.

'Take a seat.'

'A seat?'

'Yes. Please do.'

Fareeha did as she was told, still appearing confused, but once Angela lay on her side, resting her head upon the other woman's thighs, Fareeha seemed to understand.

'Rather firm, aren't we?' Angela commented, and she felt both muscles under her flex, turning rock-hard.

' _That's_ firm.' Fareeha jested, and Angela whistled.

'Indeed! How impressive!' The cushioning returned, and Angela snuggled in, breathing out deeply and touching Fareeha's leg just a little with one of her free hands. 'Is this fine, Fareeha?'

'It is for me, but I doubt my legs are more comfortable than a pillow.'

'They are and aren't. Knowing I am so close to you, well, the newness of it all remains exhilarating, and any discomfort is much more tolerable.'

A small break, the silence of the familiar room somehow making the moment strange. Fareeha's voice snapped Angela back, however.

'Angela…' She began.

'Are you going to tell me what has been weighing on your mind since you arrived?'

'You could tell?'

'Naturally. Your minor physical cues are particularly illuminated in my eyes. I've been observing you quite thoroughly for some time now.'

'Oh.'

'You can talk to me, Fareeha. It's what I want. I always wish to hear your thoughts.' She simply enjoyed the sound of her speaking. Angela closed her eyes, listening attentively.

'My…mother approached me last night.'

'Pardon!?' Angela sat up, pushing hair from her face.

'Y-yes. She's alive…it would seem.'

'Oh, Fareeha.' Angela shuffled in, sitting next to the other woman and resting a hand atop her own. 'How are you doing? Please, do not hold back on my account. No amount of fatigue could prevent me from being here for you. Goodness, Ana. I told her to reveal herself sooner rather than later.'

'It's fine. I'm fine.' Fareeha shook her head, grinning crookedly. 'She explained herself. I'm trying to understand what she was going through. It's…not easy, I'll admit, but knowing she's okay…well, that helps.'

'You are showing your maturity, Ms. Amari. It's rather beautiful.' Angela encouraged, moving her hand from Fareeha's and stroking her arm until she could feel the woman's lovely skin prickling from the touch. 'But frustration and anger are allowed as well, so long as they are harnessed with that same level-headedness. Why, conducting my work on Widowmaker, for example, somewhat tested my emotions as well.'

'Hm? How so? Has she hurt one of your loved ones as well?'

Angela laughed, continuing to feel – and enjoy the sensation of – Fareeha's skin under her small caress.

'Quite! She hurt you, in a sense, did she not?'

'O-oh.' Fareeha blushed. 'Really?'

'This is not a one-sided fancy, Fareeha. How might I convince you of that? I admire your courage. Your independence. Your work ethic. Your consideration for others. I think you're simply a specimen of universal aesthetic appeal. Your hair.' Angela combed through the black strands with her fingers. 'Your eyes. Your mouth. Heh. Your chin.'

'My chin?'

'It's very powerful in appearance. I very much adore it.'

'You flatter me…'

'And hopefully your mother did as well.' Angela reeled herself in, not wanting to be insensitive or start something she had no clue how to even proceed with gracefully.

'She did. And I think that's what helped.' Fareeha moved a little away from Angela, and although the older woman found it strange, she could understand to an extent. 'She didn't lie. She didn't make excuses. It was the first time she was vulnerable with me. I…appreciated it.' Fareeha sighed, straightening her posture. 'I _want_ to build a relationship with her again. Make up for lost time. My efforts are better used doing that than wallowing in self-pity. None of us are perfect. I won't hold such things over her head.'

'That pleases me greatly to hear.' Angela thought about her interactions with Ana, nodding a little to herself. 'I tried to tell her not to wait any longer. I want you to know that.'

'I'm aware.' Fareeha's jaw tightened. 'I thank you for that as well.'

'Then why do you remain tense suddenly?'

Fareeha turned away, rubbing her face and breathing out slowly.

'Because. I'm…' She faded, distancing herself emotionally even further, which was beginning to hurt until the other woman went on. 'I am trying to stay focussed, but…Heh. Some trained soldier I am. We are supposed to be capable of turning our sensitivities off in such circumstances to avoid complications, but you're…drawing me in, Angela. I am being controlled by temptation. Your hair is down and a mess. Your shirt is stretched, revealing your collar. The way your hip curves like that…'

Angela giggled.

'I am rather dumpy, one might say.'

'And how many have had the opportunity to see you so casually?'

Angela's mouth hung open, and she sheepishly answered.

'Very, very few.'

'You are tired.' Fareeha appeared to be confirming.

'Yes. But I'm glad we talked about Ana.'

'Me, too.'

'Right.'

'I should let you rest.'

' _I_ should let _myself_ rest, but simply being here with you is a moment I'd rather not give up so easily.'

'I feel the same. I do.'

'And yet, my time off is limited.'

'Then sleep. I will go.'

Angela's heart skipped, and she moved in closer again. The thought of being without this woman was alarmingly unpleasant.

'Stay.' She almost whimpered, surprising herself.

'I shouldn't.'

'Why?'

Fareeha bit her lower lip, and eventually answered in a low, nervous tone.

'Because I am tempted by my desires.'

Angela recoiled, but wasn't revolted. Is that why Fareeha had made a tiny movement away from her?

'Is that so?'

'I can speak with you so easily. I never talk about myself, but with you, I didn't hesitate to discuss my mother and what I was feeling. Such comfort, paired alongside this setting and your…your irresistible charm. I don't wish to put you in a compromising position. My honour shouldn't allow it.'

Fareeha swallowed, her neck shifting distractingly. Angela could understand, because she was attempting to disarm her body's own natural urges that were so very foreign to her. She could feel her pulse in her temples, and reached to touch Fareeha's thigh, the contact separating her mind from her body for a split second.

'Fareeha.' Angela tried to sound seductive, but it could've came across as more awkward than not.

Suddenly, however, Fareeha stood up with a huff, as if she had overcome a great obstacle.

'There. Good.' She sounded triumphant. 'For your sake, Angela, I will leave you be, because a second longer and I will _not_ be able to simply let you get the recovery time you need to perform the important tasks only you are capable of carrying out.'

Angela's skin cooled, and she nodded in tempered agreement.

'I suppose it's for the best.' She relented, knowing the seeming rejection was done purely out of consideration.

'When you are done, I know Jack and Winston wish to speak with you. Contact me when you're awake? I'll escort you.'

The prospect was appealing, and Angela smiled a little sadly.

'I would like that.'

'Okay. Then…I'll talk to you later?'

'Looking forward to it, Fareeha.'

'Until then.' And Fareeha saluted cutely, letting herself out with another small wave.

Angela chuckled, the complete quiet of her room somehow louder than some of the battlefields she had been to. To think Fareeha's presence meant so much to her now. She hated another human having such influence on her life, but there was no going back now. She supposed she took her apparent appeal as a compliment, but Fareeha didn't need to rush out so hastily, did she?

Angela pressed both hands into her chest, trying to stop the aching.

'My…It hurts. I thought those silly stories were lying, but this is the truth of the matter, is it? This emotion truly is formidable if it's influencing my physical self so.'

Angela slowly went to her counter. Putting together a warm drink seemed to make sense. She wanted to rest, as was demanded of her, but the tension she had just experienced reactivated her brain, and until it calmed, trying to relax into a sleep was obviously going to be impossible.

'Heh.' She laughed with a wheeze. 'How do I miss her so already? Ever since pursuing this life, I have lived to serve others, and that has been all I needed. However, today…I'm so exhausted from meeting everyone's needs ahead of my own. When I am with her…she asks nothing of me beyond my mere presence as a fellow human being.'

A tear streamed down Angela's right cheek, and she laughed again, wiping the moistness away.

'So vulnerable, and yet, I wish she was still with me now. It's been so long – so long I nearly forgot – since I knew this form of connection with another.'

Angela sniffed, rubbing her eyes out of pure, insurmountable fatigue.

'And I am now diagnosing my scenario aloud as if Lunacy is my only ally in all of this.' Angela pictured Fareeha, and her jaw shifted. 'Why did you leave? Why can I not care as before? I've lived alone for so long. Content. Satisfied. And within a few weeks…my soul yearns for just another conversation. Such tragedy.' Angela jested, trying to ground herself, but she leaned on her counter, unwilling to move.

'Enough. I cannot possibly be a slave to these feelings at my age. "Love" in its fledgling phase is a formidable foe, evidently, but my mind will break through its bonds. I do not _need_ her. I see Fareeha as a way to amplify my already decent life. Nothing more. Nothing…more…'

Angela poured her cup of warm water, preparing a tea bag and deciding which flavour she would prefer. Something bitter. Something with bite to distract her from the tsunami of swelling expectations. Something…

A small knock at her door, and Angela jumped, almost spilling her mug. She didn't dare think it was anyone but perhaps an agent needing her expertise once again. The cycle would continue. She would have to relish her and Fareeha's next moment together. Indeed, she would take photographs with her mind, locking the data away in a very new, very unexpected file mentally.

'Just a minute.' She called out softly, pressing the appropriate button to slide her door open only to almost lose her balance, her knees buckling at the sight of the woman she dared not dream of seeing as soon as she wished it.

'I can't do it, Angela.' Fareeha claimed, her lips tight. 'I cannot leave you like I could before.'

'T-then don't, Fareeha Amari.' Angela's eyes glistened, and she laughed.

Angela was lifted off her feet, easily carried to the tiny kitchen counter, and plopped down, her legs immediately tense as Fareeha kissed her, holding her face and deeply engaging in the act of intimacy with such fierce passion that Angela's focus was muddled, her mouth almost limp and dysfunctional.

A man had tried kissing Angela in such a way once. She had slapped him rather curtly.

Fareeha's hands moved from Angela's waist and into her loose shirt, stroking her covered skin and just barely teasing below her breasts, the tingling centering around them foreign, and frightfully pleasurable.

A man had tried a similar thing as well. His arm had been around Angela, and he attempted to grope her chest nonchalantly. She never spoke to him again.

'Is this okay?' Fareeha broke away, the fear evident in her eyes, but Angela only caught a glimpse of the look, because her vision was wet and blurred. She could only nod, pressing her face into Fareeha's shoulder, her neck convulsing, and her hands pulling at the other woman's tank top until she could feel her muscular, tantalizing back.

'Yes. Yes, it's more than alright, Fareeha…'


	33. XXXIII: Tracer

Tracer

 _'_ … _I only wondered if there was an element of attraction in association with your selfless deed.'_

'Huh.' Lena leaned back in one of the chairs, beeping and humming keeping her company as she watched over Widowmaker in her sleep. She had lost interest in the mobile game on her phone after about an hour or so, unable to truly give the adventure her all when Angela had so easily managed to plant a little seed Lena herself wasn't even sure could take root ever.

She wouldn't deny attraction. Of course, there was. But that didn't mean anything, really. Trickster tendencies aside, Lena thought Sombra was attractive enough as well. At least enough to fool around with harmlessly. So, what of Widowmaker or, more accurately, Amelie Lacroix?

Lena went through the data Angela had compiled, thankful her friend trusted her so to the point of not even locking the files behind any form of password. It was a vast array of medical jargon, but Lena could make sense of the basics. The heart thing. The physical enhancements. The brain issues. Trauma on various levels. Even Lena could figure most of the facts out by now, if in not so detailed wording. However, the final two details of Angela's reports sent a chill through Lena's spine, and her stomach turned in disgust, the food she had recently barely begun digesting boiling.

"Subject's reproductive organs visibly mishandled. One confirmed D&C. Potentially another. Damage too severe to tell. Compromised psyche."

And then…

"Subject mutters the name 'Gerard' frequently when brain waves are at their peek of discomfort. Connection to death? Sleeper agent? Brainwashing earlier than initially concluded? Death confirmed by strangulation. Nail marks. Smaller hands. Talon?"

'Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell…' Lena whispered, wiping her eyes of the tears already beginning to fill them. 'I know I can't save them all, but…why?' She turned to Widowmaker, and she flinched back, the woman's yellow eyes, once again, staring at her piercingly. For a moment, Lena wasn't sure how to conduct herself, but she was nothing if not confident and welcoming even in the darkest of hours. Widowmaker needed Lena's light. Amelie had to see light still could exist in her life if she would allow it.

Lena waved, smiling as best she could, having to – with great effort – not allow her expression to faulter because of the information she had just taken in.

'Heya, Luv. How you feelin'?'

Widow blinked long and hard, turning her gaze back to the ceiling. After more than seven seconds passed, it was safe to assume she wouldn't be answering the question. She seemed numb, her eyes losing any semblance of fight or desire. Lena had seen such a look before, and the story that followed any individual left unchecked with such eyes didn't end well.

'I brought you a little food and a change of clothes. You hungry or anything? Been here for a while now, yeah? Girl's gotta eat! I can barely go an hour without a little something. Heheh!'

Nothing. She was a blank slate. Despair was pushing down on her body and soul. Lena could almost see the mass of darkness consuming the poor woman. Angela had noted a mixture of present and past personas likely fighting over Amelie's state of mind, and if Angela's notes were any indication, the memories Widow and Amelie were reflecting upon could be nothing better than the worst of nightmares.

Lena had to do something.

She moved to the woman's side, leaning on the bed with her arms and seeing, with even more conclusive evidence, that Widow's eyes told a story of complete disconnect. She was giving up. Her will to live; to "feel" anything ever again, was at its limit. Lena reflected briefly upon the three fights the two women had had. While they were life or death situations, even that version of Widowmaker was preferable. At least she talked.

'Psst. I…uh…know things are rough right now, but we're totally gonna make it better, okay? Angela's figuring it all out, and I'm…I'm here, you know?' Lena grinned, her cheeks flaring and her neck shrinking, but the need to maintain her composure strong. She sympathized so easily with those who were vulnerable, and something about the incredible Widowmaker being in such a state broke her optimism practically. 'You remember grabbin' my hand before I left? Caught me by surprise, let me tell you! Made the heart go aflutter havin' a beauty like you even think about needing me.'

Still nothing. But Lena wouldn't give up. It was too late for that.

'Your hospital gown looks nice and all, but I brought you some new clothes when you're ready for them. They're nothing fancy, and I don't have the same…uh…measurements, but they're uber comfortable. I've slept in them, like, a bunch of times.' Lena brought out a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants. 'See? I made sure they were all dark and stuff for you. Figured you wouldn't wanna stand out just yet.'

Was she breathing? That heart slowing was no joke. It was like trying to have a conversation with a statue. Widow blinking was the only indication of life.

'So, yeah. I can help change you, or…you can change yourself? I've gotten permission to let you wander around a little – under my supervision, of course – so just say the word and I'll deal with the I.V. Huh? What's that? You're impressed I can do some medical stuff here and there? Oh, go on. I know the basics, right? Studied hard. Really wanted to do well in Overwatch, you know? Helping people and all. Comes with the territory. Plus, Angela's given me tips here and there. Ah!'

Lena went back to the necklace she and Winston had crafted.

'Please don't hate me, but it was the only way. Just insurance, alrighty? You gotta wear this if we go anywhere. It has a shock mechanism to immobilize you if anything daft goes on with your brain. It's to protect you, innit? I tried to make it sorta pretty, but I'm not the best with that kinda stuff. Hope you don't mind.'

Widow finally turned, but she neither confirmed nor denied any interest whatsoever in moving herself.

'Uh…Ahem. I'm just…gonna unlock you for now. Help you eat maybe? Get you changed? Fresh clothes and a full tummy is always a good way to shake off an old day, I say.'

Tracer felt as though she were approaching an injured, poisonous snake. One wrong move and it would lash out, injecting her with venom until she succumbed to the toxin. She moved slowly, trying to get any form of read on Widowmaker. The woman's eyes stayed locked on Lena, and she met them head on, wanting to give her respect and condolences at the same time, wishing to connect with the woman who struggled to find meaning amidst her living hell.

The bonds snapped off, and Lena's whole body tightened, but Widow didn't even move. She simply continued to stare. Was she searching for something? What could it be?

'Wanna sit up?' Lena offered. 'Need any help?'

In one smooth motion, so perfectly controlled despite her circumstances, Widow was now sitting upon the hospital bed. In another, she yanked her I.V. out, and blood spewed down her arm.

'Oi!' Lena's stomach turned at the sight for a moment, but she was dabbing the mess up thereafter, knowing she should've had the necklace on Widow first, but not wanting to insult her to that degree just yet. It was a balancing act, as if attempting to train a lion and build a relationship with another living being that couldn't fully be understood yet.

'Leave it.' Widowmaker's cold voice finally spoke out, her words cracking like ice.

'Leave it?' Lena wasn't quite sure she understood, but once her hand was smacked away, stinging upon the recoil, she began to comprehend. The blood still poured out from the brutal disconnection, and Widow gripped the area on her arm, digging her nails into the skin to puncture more holes.

'Bloody hell! Don't do that!' Lena grabbed at Widow, easily overpowering the weakened warrior, which broke her heart more than it should have. The assassin struggled, and within her condition she was still rather powerful, yet Lena held her wrists out, breathing heavily.

'Leave me alone…' Widow muttered, more dangerously now.

'No can do, Luv. Didn't you hear me? I'm gonna save you.'

'Save me…?' She almost grinned, and Lena _did_ feel a little foolish for the simplicity of her statement. 'You can do no such thing, little girl. Can a shattered vase ever be the same?'

Lena swallowed. She hated what Widow was saying, but at the same time, it was as though she were speaking to the other woman for the first time without the influence of Talon's brainwashing. She was catching a glimpse of the person Amelie had been before being forced into the skin of Widowmaker and…

'It can always be fixed up real nice again. Torbjorn could make it like new, I think. Just takes the right person.'

'The individual required for this task is dead.' Widow answered solemnly. 'And I have no desire to converse with you further. Leave me.'

'Why? So you can hurt yourself?'

'That doesn't concern you.' Widow glanced around, and Lena understood. This disconnect. This coldness. This emptiness. Widowmaker had no desire to live. Indeed, she wished for the exact opposite. Whatever memories had returned, be they akin to the data Angela had compiled or something else entirely, Widow was tipping over the edge. She may have already fallen, as far as Lena knew.

'Amelie! Really, Luv, I'm here if – !'

' _Don't call me that!_ ' Widow hissed, and she broke from Tracer's hold for but a moment, driving the palm of her hand into Lena's chin, snapping her neck and forcing the girl to see stars. If Widow had been at full power, Lena could have very well been much worse off. Fortunately, that wasn't the case, and Lena pushed in, stumbling onto the ground with Widow, and knowing she would get an earful if Angela happened to walk in on the sight.

 _Why didn't you put the necklace on_ before _unbinding her?_

'It's your name, innit?'

'Ugh…!'

She was so ridiculously feisty! Lena finally pinned Widow, straddling on top of her waist and holding her wrists to the ground. Both women huffed, their chests expanding and deflating with every breath.

'Normally this sorta position leads into a different kind of fun for me, but I can hardly even enjoy that because you're downright looney right now!'

There was just a little more struggle beneath Lena, but then, at last, Widow seemed to run out of what little energy she had to work with. She reverted back to silence, although her eyes were red and shiny.

'Don't look at me.' She practically pouted.

Lena gave way to the quiet, baffled with how best to even try and approach this scene. She decided to not think overly hard on it, and lowered her tone as if she were speaking to a child.

'Hey. I read a coupla your files. Ange has an idea of what you've been through. I know it ain't easy. I mean, I'm anchored here thanks to a piece of technology, but at least I _wanted_ to be experimented on. I can't even imagine how you might feel.'

'…'

'There's always a reason to keep living though, right? Don't throw in the towel yet, Luv. It'd be such a waste. You have all this potential, don'tcha think? Weren't you a, what, super popular ballet dancer or something? That's totally daft! Imagine the moves you could pull now!'

'…'

'And…uh…if all goes well, you can fight with me and Overwatch. I mean, we _are_ tryin' to take down Talon; you know, the guys who did this to you? Might be a nice way to make up for everything's that's happened while they had you, too.'

'…'

Lena waited, but they were back to silence. The only time Widowmaker had bothered speaking was when she thought she might escape in some fashion. She was shutting down again. She wasn't even looking at Lena anymore. It was all beginning to feel hopeless.

'Alrighty.' Lena managed to reach for her bag and get the shock necklace, blinking it on to Widow before she knew what happened. The black trinket rested upon the woman's wide collar, and it actually didn't look half bad. 'There. A gift from me to you. Now, let's get you changed and go.'

Lena tried to lift Widow, but she wasn't interested in co-operating whatsoever. She was practically limp, which made removing her hospital wear even more difficult. Fortunately, the assassin simply couldn't care enough to resist anymore, so Lena was eventually able to get a bandage on her insertion wound from the I.V., and actually get the clothes she brought over the other woman's ludicrous form, squinting and attempting not to peek too much while doing so. Only little flashes of odd coloured flesh peppered Lena's vision, but it was enough to get her imagination going, and she was still struggling through some minor frustrations if she gave such thoughts the time of day.

With her hair down and dishevelled, expression softened to a vulnerable, temperate state, and the casual, black everyday wear equipped, Lena swallowed hard, finding that Amelie could be undeniably appealing. She was becoming more human to the Overwatch agent by the second, and Angela's probing questions didn't seem so utterly out of this world now. Not completely, anyway.

'Upsy daisy.' Lena put Widow's arm around her shoulder, and the woman at least dragged her feet enough to be moved. She likely knew Lena would be willing to pull her along if it came down to it, and maintained just enough pride to prevent that particular scenario.

'You're intolerable.' She muttered in Lena's ear, and the time traveler could only giggle.

'That a fact?'

* * *

Lena hailed a ride by one of the many four-wheelers hovering about the base at low altitudes, not against walking through the various sectors, but more so not wishing to draw too much attention to Widow just yet either. The sun was beginning to set, Lena assumed, which meant she directed her driver to the shoreside view near Winston's main control tower.

'Is this her?' The agent asked, rumours about the infamous Talon agent's arrival, unfortunately, already circulating clearly.

'Yep. Mind keeping it quiet though, Luv?'

'…Yeah.'

Lena had a feeling he might not, but that was fine. She wasn't leaving Widow's side any time soon. If someone had an issue with the sniper, they could take it up with Lena first and foremost, which wasn't exactly recommended considering her rank laying within the top five of Overwatch.

Lena soon assisted Widow down from the transportation vehicle, waving at their driver happily as she escorted the woman to a small bench overlooking the water, an incredible view impossible to not stare at in awe, especially with the sun bleeding in the horizon, painting the sky and water a brilliant myriad of reds, purples, oranges, and hints of the blue that once was. A large boat could be seen in the distance as well, with miles upon miles of ocean reaching beyond what one could hope to grasp. Flowers had been strapped to the bench, the accumulation of such decorative pieces something of a homage to soldiers and agents lost in battle. They made the setting both more beautiful and grounded at once.

'There. See that? The world is stunning, innit?' Lena indicated the spectacle, watching Widow slump into the bench, although she was at least gazing straight ahead, her nearly mechanical eyes fluctuating with contemplation. Lena fiddled with the device that directly controlled the shock necklace, but any overly aggressive intentions could set it off automatically as well. She hated using such a ridiculous means of control, but there wasn't much choice, was there?

Lena took in a deep breath of air, and knelt beside Widow, still waiting for _something_.

'What do ya think? Pretty, huh?'

Widow sighed, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

'You will never give up, will you?'

'Hmm. Nah.' Lena shrugged, relieved the woman was at least speaking again.

'Nothing holds beauty for me, little girl. All I see is death.'

'And that's what I'm trying to tell you: there's more to life than all that morbid stuff Talon stuffed you with. You just gotta look past it and – '

'Blood.'

Lena paused, her mouth hanging open.

'Um…what?'

'All I see is blood. Take me back. Or leave me. Just…go away.'

'Ain't happenin', Luv. You're stuck with me until Ange's nap is done. I brought you here, and I'm willing to let you walk around and all, so let's just relax and…I don't know…chat or something? And the sky isn't blood, okay? Seriously. Look on the bright side. The world can be so gorgeous, and you – '

Lena's mind snapped, her vision turning white from the impact, and then a hand grappled her neck, Widow's voice and spurts of electricity shocking them both.

'Listen…you naïve imbecile…' Widow hissed, saliva mixed with blood spilling out the sides of her mouth. 'I killed him…! _I killed him…!_ How can I possibly…ever…!?' The necklace finally brought her down, Widow twitching on the ground. Lena hastily disengaged the restrainer, and the girl that was Amelie lay still, gripping at her stomach and sobbing into her arm with the frightening tattoo etched into it.

'I killed him…I…the only man I've ever…Our child…My little piece of him…ripped from my… _Gerard…Oh, my sweet…sweet Gerard. You didn't even know. You didn't know…and I…Your eyes were so…so sad. God…I'm so sorry…So sorry. H-hah…Ugh…_ '

Lena's eyes instantly filled with tears. She didn't understand enough French to make out Widow's later wails clearly, but the raw, pained emotion behind her despair was awfully evident, and Lena felt shame for even attempting to bring light to the abyss of torture this woman had endured for no other reason than to be used as a convenient tool for Talon's bidding and Overwatch's undoing.

Angela's notes and suspicions were right on the money. How horrible. How…unbelievably horrendous. No words or actions could help Widow, her ability to withhold the emotions stemmed from release at its limit finally. Lena simply placed a small hand on the woman's shaking back, her bellowing crying muffled as best as she could manage.

'You're right. I was being an idiot. I'm sorry.' Lena said under her breath, so softly she wasn't sure she had even uttered anything at all.

'What's going on here, Lena?' Jack's voice demanded, and he approached with a number of higher ranked agents, all of them carrying themselves with an air of superiority.

'Not now. Really. I got it.' Lena almost pleaded.

'The hell is she doing out of restraints?'

'I'm taking her for a walk. I've taken precautions. Please. Give me a sec.'

'Not happening.' Jack nodded to his men, and they encircled the broken Widowmaker, beginning to lift her up like the ragdoll she had become in the shattering. More agents were gathering, the spectacle prior already summoning attention.

'Stop! She shouldn't be jostled around like that!'

'Think I care? I agreed to keeping her bound in the medical wing until we were 100% certain she was no longer a threat. Angela's last report stated she was severely unstable still. What I see before me proves as much. No risks. You want another death on your hands?'

That hurt. Lena almost buckled from the imaginary impact, but she wasn't scared of Jack anymore, and Widow's wellbeing was more important than her own silly pride.

'You better believe I outrank you right now, Mr. Soldier 76, so you boys best listen to your superior and _let her go_.'

The men hesitated, looking to Jack for confirmation or denial. His shoulders slouched slightly, and his jaw shifted in irritation.

'We're a vigilante group now, Lena. Your rank doesn't actually amount to – '

'But it's the truth, innit?'

'…Yes.'

The men released Widow then, and Lena took over, holding the woman with a heavy heart. Her eyes were sunken into darkness, and her mouth hung open. Her head twitched here and there, and the tears were stained on her cheeks.

'She _needs_ help. You _know_ she's just as much a victim as anyone; if not more so once Ange sends you the full report. Overwatch _helps_ those in need. We _never_ turn our backs no matter what. That's the U.N. _Not_ us. Not what we fight for. We're heroes. Heroes always extend a hand of love. We never discriminate. Am I wrong?'

Jack blinked, the words countering him hard, and his scowl softening suddenly. The silence hung over all who had gathered for seconds that could have been minutes, the sounds of the crashing waves dispersing time in tangible intervals. Finally, Jack answered with fortitude and understanding.

'You're not wrong.' He turned to his men. 'And that's why she outranks me.' He also admitted. In another second, he was at Widow's side, helping Lena with the weight, his amazing strength more than making the job a breeze from then onward.

The release of some of the burden gave Lena's mind time to digest what she had learned. It gave her time to comprehend precisely what she needed to do for Amelie Lacroix…if anything could be done at all. For once in her life, Lena's eternal optimism couldn't overcome the shadow that ravaged Widowmaker without an amount of effort and resilience the young agent of Overwatch wasn't sure even she was capable of.

Only time would tell…

Time Lena couldn't control…


	34. XXXIV: Pharah

Pharah

 _'Come now, Gabe; try to look somewhat pleasant.'_

 _'I'll smile when the picture's taken.'_

 _'I'm…in the middle?'_

 _'Yes, Jack. Good. Fareeha. Sweetie. You get to stand in the front. There we are.'_

 _'Where's Angela?'_

 _'Angela! Get yer arse over here, girl! Take a break from that darned computer of yours and look happy!'_

 _'Bahahah! What a woman! Always working on something or other!'_

 _'Just like you're always training, you monster.'_

 _'Hahah! Can't deny that!'_

 _'Just take the picture.'_

 _'Got a date, Gabe?'_

 _'I'm here! My apologies!'_

 _'Oh, lordy. The finest lady in the west standin' right near this old boy? Mighty lucky day!'_

 _Fareeha put her hands in her lap and stood proper, the greatest heroes of Overwatch standing guard over her. She caught a glimpse of Angela Ziegler before the flash of the camera, and even back then, she thought she was one of the most beautiful individuals she had ever lay eyes on. Angela had flashed her a convincing smile, and perhaps it had all started, unbeknownst to Fareeha, right then and there, a longing decades in the making coming to fruition…_

* * *

It felt so natural to lift Angela off her feet. It felt right to carry her across the room and take charge of the exchange rather aggressively. Fareeha was in her element, and as she moved her hands within Angela's shirt, caressing her soft, smooth skin within, she recalled the way she was forced to play a more submissive role with any man she had allowed intimacy to occur. The expectations were painfully clear, and it was a small wonder Fareeha wanted to crawl out of her skin when she was coerced into tentative subjection. The man initiated everything. She was merely supposed to give meek allowance. The man made the first move. He kissed first. He touched first. He unclothed her first and appraised her like some prize won.

It disgusted Fareeha as she thought about it, and the kisses she traded with Angela in the doctor's private chambers reflected the frustration and embarrassment. She opened her mouth wide, elated by the way Angela's did the same, the taste of her stimulating enough let alone the way she yanked at her shirt, Fareeha's bare back exposed, and the bottom of the material just below her breasts.

'Mmm…' Angela's voice hummed, and Fareeha could hear her pulse pumping through her temples. Her whole body was burning, and her hands were almost shaking as she teased the idea of fondling the tempting mounds of flesh so very within reach. Fareeha didn't want to move too quickly too soon, however. Thus, she stayed her overpowering desires for the time being.

'Your back is very well defined.' Angela breathed, the redness on her cheeks mixed with her dazed eyes testing Fareeha's resolve. 'Might I ask that you lift your arms for me?'

Never before had Fareeha _wanted_ to be lusted over, really. Accepted, perhaps, and in turn, a level of desire in relation to her person, but not seen as sexually enticing. However, the mere possibility that Angela _wanted_ to see her naked form gave the younger woman courage and added longing.

'Only if you do the same afterward.' Fareeha dared to suggest. She still couldn't be as assertive with Angela as she wanted, but progress had obviously been made as Angela blinked, backing away from Fareeha's face just so in a way that allowed both women to look at one another.

'I-I'm…lacking an undergarment at the moment…' She blushed, grinning slyly but so clearly nervous and excited at once.

'A lucky turn of events for me, then.' Fareeha pressed, her chest flipping constantly. Was this even happening? Was she dreaming? Her vision kept blurring for a second or two, and no matter how much she tried to take the sight of Angela's gorgeous face in, she couldn't quite grasp it as perfectly in her reality as she desperately attempted to.

Angela bit at her lip, and Fareeha leaned in a little closer, the way the normally controlled and level-headed individual shrunk back with inexperience and hesitation too much for her to handle sanely.

'I've never…W-well, you are aware. I understand the procedure well enough, and yet, I am quite anxious.'

'Then we don't go further than this for now, Angela. I do not mind. There will always be time later.' Fareeha said the words, and believed them, truly, but she wouldn't dismiss her own interests and the let down that came with Angela's reservations.

Angela scowled, sincere contemplation passing over her expression. Something seemed to spark within her intelligent brain, and she nodded, her still rather lulled gaze sensual in every sense of the word.

'As always, your consideration remains lovely, but I do believe it's time I allow something of this nature to transpire in my life; especially when my feelings for you only seem to be growing with this pleasing interaction.'

Fareeha's eyes felt fuzzy, and she blinked rapidly, smiling and lifting her arms, Angela's hands quickly grabbing at her shirt and bringing it up over her extended limbs. Fareeha wasn't exactly free from nerves either. After all, this was _her_ first time being so intimate with another woman; Angela Ziegler, for that matter. If this scenario went terribly, what would it mean for their budding relationship? Fareeha swallowed, her black bra suddenly seeming so strange and foreign to her.

'Um…' Fareeha stuttered, however, as Angela touched her stomach, her fingers gentle but strong at once. She traced the rather defined muscles over her abdominal, and the women shifted, Angela caressing Fareeha's midsection before leaning in to kiss above her naval, peppering the area with brushes of her lips.

'The first time I saw your body, Fareeha, I'll admit, I found it very intriguing. It stirred a sensation in me I hadn't experienced before.' Her contact sent goosebumps all over Fareeha so strongly she thought for sure Angela could see them prickling every which way.

'A-ah…' Fareeha groaned, and she covered her mouth. The affirmation of pleasure had escaped without the younger woman even realizing it.

'Naughty, naughty, Fareeha Amari. I rather _like_ such adorable sounds. Please do not muffle them.'

Had a man ever brought such sensations? Was Fareeha truly ever putty in their hands? Did she ever have to restrain her longings with as much dedication as this moment demanded? Hardly. Not at all. Not even a little.

Angela giggled, and looked up, her bewitching eyes paralyzing Fareeha briefly prior to the women kissing again, comfort being found in the connection now, and more daring, desiring movements coming into play, Fareeha finally giving in, taking Angela's somewhat frumpy shirt and practically ripping it off her head. The doctor squeaked, covering her chest instinctively and laughing defensively.

Fareeha breathed out deeply, just the cleavage of Angela's breasts more than overwhelmingly beautiful. Her skin was so light and clear, and it was good to see she had put on a respectable amount of weight since her time in Iraq. Her curves couldn't be lovelier, and Fareeha again had to widen her eyes to remind herself this was, indeed, her present time.

'Goodness me. I say such grand things in one moment and conceal myself in another.' Angela said apologetically.

'It isn't a problem, but this location is.' Fareeha lifted Angela back up, and took her to the woman's bed, easing her down gently and kneeling in front of her. She grinned as charmingly as she could consciously manage, and Angela beamed back, taking her face and kissing her again, a level of safety revisited with the exchange, it appeared. Angela pressed her body against Fareeha's, her bare chest pushing into Fareeha's skin, and the Egyptian thought she might faint the blood rushed to her head so suddenly.

'May I?' Fareeha asked calmly, and Angela's head rested against hers, a beat passing before the doctor nodded, slowly backing away, only her shorts remaining. Fareeha actually shook her head and forgot to breathe initially. The nanomachines certainly kept every aspect of Angela youthful, for her naked breasts remained wonderfully molded and perky, the just slightly deeper coloured tips firm and tempting.

'This…is excessively embarrassing.' Angela commented thinly.

Fareeha couldn't answer her. It all clicked into place. Everything. She didn't _hate_ the idea of men and what they had to offer. Granted, having something shoved in her face with lewd expectations certainly turned her attitude a little from such extensions of the sex, but even now perhaps she wouldn't outright deny a male the chance if she wasn't so undeniably involved and smitten with Angela. And yet, now that she saw Angela's upper half in complete nudity, her wants and desires made much more sense. She couldn't dream of doing anything but kneading the beautiful formations presented to her, and that's precisely what she did, Angela's cute voice sighing in obvious restraint.

'O-oh…How…interesting. The nerves…truly are concentrated in such parts…' Angela evaluated, true to her character, but Fareeha shuffled in closer, and without double checking herself, she had her mouth over Angela's right side, suctioning the area while giving little flicks and nibbles for what she assumed to be an exciting gift based on the way Angela's hands held her head, her fingers digging through Fareeha's hair.

'Aha…F-Fareeha…That is quite…quite nice…'

It felt so natural for Fareeha. Natural, but also a little strange at the same time. Was she being too forward? Angela would say something, wouldn't she? Was she doing it right? She had no experience prior save for when a man had done something similarly to her. He was much too aggressive, rough, and more concerned with his own sedated lust than Fareeha's. She didn't know how that was possible. Naturally, she derived pleasure from the soft yet firm part of Angela, but the sounds the other woman made, as well as the way her body trembled in Fareeha's arms pushed her further and further; not her own needs and wants.

Angela's fingers fumbled with the back of Fareeha's bra without her even noticing for a second, and before she completely registered the woman's act, the piece was loosened, and Fareeha could only shrug it off, understanding Angela's tentativeness now, for she too thought about covering herself, but remained steadfast nonetheless. Fareeha parted from the other woman's pleasing chest, and glanced away, shrugging subconsciously as she was so clearly appraised.

'I have never found another woman sexually attractive, Fareeha Amari.' Angela spoke softly, her eyes moving about, over, and around Fareeha's upper form. 'I could always appreciate aesthetically pleasing females, but had I ever considered kissing one or being in such a scenario like this? Never. Couldn't dream of such tales.'

'Right…' Fareeha agreed, having similar realizations.

'And yet, this sight of you – of your tanned skin and just slightly lighter toned breasts – why, I didn't think such inexplicable longing existed within me. Perhaps it is because I have fallen so desperately for you as a fellow human being, but I am muddled with selfish yearning, and it is preventing my mind from operating as I prefer to logically.'

This brought relief to Fareeha. The worst-case image in her mind wasn't coming to pass. Angela still wanted this, and the joy sending small shockwaves through Fareeha's veins was fully unleashed, allowing the younger woman to earnestly embrace her opportunity.

'Heh. You're rather fuller than I had anticipated. Sufficiently shaped and quite bountiful in all the enticing ways. Those men whom you humoured surely felt vastly fortunate…'

A sour taste filled Fareeha's mouth, and she saw the flash of distance pass through Angela's sapphire eyes. It hurt, but there was nothing for it, and Fareeha simply took the other woman's bare waist and kissed her again and again, her chest melding with Angela's, the malleable bodies sensational. She moved to her neck, and proceeded to still appraise Angela's freshly revealed body, taking handfuls and giving small pinches and twists in accordance to her lady's rise and fall of pitches.

'Mmm…Fareeha…Such skill. I shouldn't…be surprised…since you're so considerate to…A-ah…! To begin with…'

'I'm honestly somewhat winging it.' Fareeha felt the need to admit.

'Even more impressive, then…' Angela laughed, and she also caressed Fareeha at the same time, forcing the younger woman to acknowledge the heat building between her legs and the nearly impossible-to-suppress-wish to enact _some_ form of self-gratification, an act she so very rarely performed it was practically a foreign motion and most certainly one she couldn't do in front of Angela herself.

And yet, she ached, a pulsating need swelling within her into an itch that begged to be scratched.

'I've missed out…on so much, it would seem.' Angela mused, and her words helped narrow Fareeha's intent. Perhaps that was it. If Angela was as invested as Fareeha, maybe that was the next step? Fareeha's hand was practically twitching she wanted to give in to her body's demands so, and thus, she diverted that self-centered instinct and stroked Angela's leg, moving further and further inward.

'Ah…H-hah…'

'Just…tell me when to stop.' Fareeha said clearly, and Angela nodded, her eyes clenched shut and her mouth tight until Fareeha kissed it again.

Closer. Closer. She was so smooth.

'O-oh…Fareeha…Are you…?'

There.

'Mm! Hmph…Mm!' Angela's sounds were covered by Fareeha's lips, but she felt the warmth as clearly as her own. Angela must've been as vexed as the younger woman, and Fareeha was ever more than willing to assist with the vain hope Angela would relieve her mercifully as well. Angela's shorts were damp, and Fareeha could only be flattered, unsure whether or not the doctor would allow herself to be completely naked.

'Ngh…U-uh…Hah…hah…Mm…' Angela's hips moved within Fareeha's touch, but her tone had altered suddenly, and Fareeha became hyper aware of the strange shift.

'Hah…' Angela parted from Fareeha out of seemingly nowhere, her brow wetter than Fareeha thought, and her breaths wheezing out of her. She grabbed hold of Fareeha's wrists, and groaned in seeming pain, causing panic to the other girl. When had this change occurred? How hadn't Fareeha noticed?

'Angela? Are you alright?'

' _Damn it._ ' The doctor cursed in German. ' _Of all times…Of all times!_ '

'Angela?'

Fareeha could only watch as Angela's neck tightened, and veins crawled up what was once such a smooth surface. She pulled her hand away from Fareeha's arm, and covered her own mouth while gripping her stomach, heaving into her palm. Tears lined her eyes, and her whole body began to spasm.

'What can I do for you, Angela?' Fareeha asked helplessly, but Angela just shook her head with a grunt. The agony seemed to last forever, but after a few minutes, Angela finally was capable of speaking again, although she looked terribly drained, and was evidently still enduring extreme discomfort.

'…I'm sorry.' She apologized, and Fareeha practically cut her off in response.

'Should I call the medical team?'

'No. They can do nothing for me.'

Fareeha grimaced. She hated watching the woman she cared for suffer. It was as though she herself were hurting. That would have been preferable even. Fareeha went to the small kitchen and procured a glass of water, bringing it to Angela and catching a small smile flicker over her face.

'My thanks, Fareeha.'

'Here.' Fareeha also offered the shirt that she had so aggressively stripped off the poor woman.

'Ah. Right. I am exposed…' She blushed, and although Angela attempted to cover herself, her arms wouldn't lift above her shoulders, and Fareeha was forced to help her, worry only building in her thoughts.

'My thanks again…'

A long pause. Fareeha couldn't get a read. It wasn't her forte. She could only ask what weighed on her heart.

'What happened?'

'Hm?' Angela raised a brow, her gaze tired still, but for an entirely different reason. 'Oh. I…suppose I am much more fatigued than anticipated.'

'Pardon?' Fareeha couldn't hide her irritation.

'I need rest, naturally. I shouldn't have indulged…as much as I appreciated what was occurring.'

'Are you joking?'

'Not quite.'

'Then you expect me to believe such nonsense?'

'Ideally?' Angela spoke to her glass, utterly unwilling to meet Fareeha's stare of too many emotions. Fareeha breathed out deeply, not bothering to put her bra back on, but covering her body with the shirt she had entered the room with. The frustration and anger were building, mostly due to the fact Fareeha thought they were past this; past the wall Angela fortified around herself. It hurt the more she thought about what they had just done and how Angela still insisted on treating others when it came to her own well being.

'Are you upset?' She asked, and something in the way she inquired softened Fareeha's rage. She cared about her too much to be overwhelmed by her petty pride and emotions. She would see this through, and not make hasty judgements. That's how mistakes happened.

'I am.'

'Naturally.'

'But only because I care about you, Angela.' Fareeha followed up, and Angela's posture seemed to relax. 'That was no normal form of seizure. Obviously, it wasn't the first time it's happened either.'

Angela bit down on her lower lip, her eyes glazing over, and even then, Fareeha thought she was beautiful, wanting nothing more than to help her somehow.

Both women's phones chimed a moment later, disrupting the terrible silence that had taken the place of what had been such a rapturous moment. Angela slowly got up from her bed, and the soft illumination of her screen lit her somber face. Her exhausted pupils scanned whatever message had been received, and she turned to Fareeha, grinning nervously.

'We've been assigned a top priority mission, Fareeha.'

'You and I?' Fareeha blinked, thankful, but apprehensive as well.

'Yes. You will be fulfilling the role of my bodyguard during a trip to Oasis, Iraq. There is going to be a presentation by some of the most brilliant minds the world has to offer, and I've been invited officially. Naturally, Overwatch will be using this opportunity to gain some insight on the powers that be and what may be transpiring under the political surface that is displayed for the world to see. One would assume that Talon, that is, Dr. O'Deorain, shall be present in some form as well.'

'I see.'

'Will you…be willing to accept the mission, Fareeha?'

Fareeha flinched back, confused by the question.

'Of course, Angela. Why wouldn't I? Being by your side is where I truly wish to be.'

'Even after my obvious evasion of your inquiries?'

Fareeha chuckled lowly, going to the woman that seemed even smaller somehow and bringing her in close, holding her head and shoulder amidst the embrace.

'I won't deny I am irritated, Angela, but I know you well enough by now not to pry. You have a will of iron, and if you wish for privacy, I won't press the issue.' Fareeha found Angela's eyes then, and she blinked back the water beginning to fill them, her skin colour still a little off. 'Just please be aware that your health actively effects my own now. Your pain is mine. Your joy is also mine. I am invested in you beyond any I have come across before. Could you keep that in mind when you withhold secrets from me?'

Fareeha's comments seemed to have the desired result as Angela appeared contemplative, her touch tightening around the taller woman's hips.

'…That is a fair request, Fareeha. Thank-you for being honest with me. When I am ready…I'll speak of it. For now, might I ask you do not mention what occurred here this evening?'

Fareeha smirked.

'Your spasm or our act of intimacy?'

Angela's cheeks filled with air, and then she laughed, slapping Fareeha's arm lightly.

'Both, I suppose!'

When the ringing of both women's voices faded, Fareeha cupped Angela's face in her hands, stroking her right cheek with her thumb gingerly.

'I…really care about you, Angela.'

'Despite my flaws?'

'Truthfully? I think they might make me like you more, oddly enough.'

'It's not really that odd, if you consider the tendencies of human nature. Finding issues within one another helps build a rapport centered around imperfection and self-conscious belittlement.'

Fareeha giggled, and then kissed Angela with even more affection than she had before.


	35. XXXV: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

 _Blink_.

'This is the last session we'll have together for a few days, Amelie. Although I've made minor progress in relation to your brain and what I may propose I operate upon, it is still a rather delicate procedure I would prefer your consent on since it could negatively impact your ability to function on a basic level. Do you understand?'

Widow eventually nodded slowly, disliking the way Mercy stared at her until a response of some form was given. The necklace Tracer had bestowed upon her made the need for limb restriction unnecessary for now, it seemed, so that was somewhat agreeable, at the very least.

'Now, Lena informed me that you continue to suffer because of the returning memories that took place before becoming known as "Widowmaker". Would you like to discuss those with me? I won't pry, of course, but saying what you're feeling aloud can be therapeutic all on its own, you should know.'

'I feel nothing.' Widow claimed, but Mercy only sighed, arising from her rather elaborate chair and tapping at a few of the projected monitors, the multitude of charts and graphs being developed in real time due to the wires connected to Widow within the facility staggering.

'Although I agree that such a claim would truly make life easier and more productive in some regards, it is undeniable that feelings – as unique as they are to our race – instigate progress and development beyond projected parameters. You would do well not to ignore yours during this trying time, Amelie.'

'I'm Widowmaker.'

'You're Amelie. Widowmaker is a monster's name. You are no longer that.'

' _You're wrong_.'

' _I would truly beg to differ, my dear_.'

Widow flinched back, Mercy's accent and delivery of French near perfect. She was…quite the woman. A small wonder Talon wanted to capture her and likely twist her mind to be used for their own divine purposes. She would have been a great asset to the cause. What cause? It didn't matter. But why did she fight? So she could kill. But killing was wrong. She had killed…!

'Massive spike in brain activity. Fluctuation in communication between thought patterns. Obvious interference. Hm. A parasite? No. Redirection? Somewhat. Confusion builds upon the present, past, and future perception of the subject. Emotions becoming…erratic, but stabilizing by the second. Intriguing.' Mercy made some scratches in a little notepad, the prehistoric way of marking down information odd for someone of her calibre, but then she tapped away at the keypads, her speed and precision dazzling as her eyes flickered back and forth, the doctor capable of multitasking throughout three different reports simultaneously.

'You did ballet professionally prior to being captured, Amelie?'

'…Yes.' Widow sighed.

'From what I understand, that is a dance almost exclusively dedicated to depicting emotion and story through elaborate movements only the most skilled individuals are capable of. Is that correct?'

'Mere floundering about before ignorant, sex-starved fools.' Widow muttered.

'Is that how you feel, or is that how Talon _wants_ you to feel?' Mercy swiped a monitor so it was facing Widow, indicating a red line that spiked presumably when she gave her answer.

'It's how _I_ "feel".'

'Again, I beg to differ. Watch the crimson line closely, Amelie, and answer my next question. What is Overwatch?'

'The enemy.' Widow's words slipped through her mouth before she could think upon her response further, and as she did so, the line upon the chart skyrocketed once again.

'Finally, – and do pay attention to the chart, please – who murdered your husband? You or Talon?'

Widow's eyes widened, and she flinched forward, the electrical shock feeding through her veins and causing her whole body to spasm. She sat upright, and reached for Mercy, but she was too weak still, and the multiple doses of electricity from what felt like so long ago appeared to build on one another, making for more painful punishments progressively.

'I…did…!' Widow bit through her lip, an incredible pain crunching in her jaw.

'Incorrect again, Amelie. Talon killed your husband. Not you.'

'You don't know _anything_ about him!'

'I know you loved him fiercely, Amelie. I know they took your child from you. I know he watched you dance for years before finally approaching you. I know he would have done anything for you; even die for you.'

' _Shut up!_ '

'I know Talon is the monster; not you. They used you to do something nobody should ever have to endure. Indeed, having someone I care about now only makes me that much more sympathetic. If I were forced to…' Mercy hesitated, her expression faltering as she wiped her swelling eyes.

'Forgive me. I did not…expect to be so affected…by the mere thought. Ahem.' The doctor sniffed, and Widow observed her carefully, the strong, unflinching persona broken for just enough time to make her a different being entirely.

'T-that is,' Mercy continued, calming herself with great resolve. 'Overwatch is not your enemy; Talon is. They took everything from you, and with my help, we will give you the opportunity to avenge your husband and…and your child.'

Widow clenched her eyes shut, grunting within her mouth and wiping at the tears forming under her lids.

'Please…no more…'

A beat, but then Mercy stood and brought a small container to Widow, shaking the capsules contained.

'I understand. These are portable versions of the medicine I have been injecting you with to help cleanse Dr. O'Deorain's toxin from your system. I recommend taking one in the morning, before a meal, and one at night in the same fashion. From what I have concluded, Moira's toxin worked in conjunction with her more elaborate manipulation of your brain's processor, extending the robotic tendencies into the rest of your system over a period of time. I will need to perform a deep dive operation to fully comprehend how best to counter Dr. O'Deorain's work, but until then, please continue to take these during my absence.'

'And if I don't?' Widow sneered.

'Then you become a monster again; one capable of murdering her own husband without a hint of remorse until now.'

A shock jolted Widow and stayed her hand from breaking Mercy's nose.

'Very well.' Widow took the medicine, placing it beside her on a small table.

'Lena – or as you know her better, Tracer – has volunteered to be your primary caregiver while I am away. When I return in approximately three days, I would like your answer regarding the operation. Is that reasonable?'

That stare again. It was a powerful weapon.

'…I suppose.' Widow considered the doctor's information a little further. 'But why that girl? She's an annoyance.'

'The one person willing to risk her life to help you is an "annoyance"? Odd way of observing your surroundings, Amelie.'

'It's only for her own self-satisfaction.'

'That is inarguably false.' Mercy snapped back finally, actual anger in her voice, which nearly startled Widow. 'I have never met a more selfless individual in my life. What she has already done for you…' Mercy shook her head in frustration. 'Well, I do believe you owe her more than a mere word of gratitude, in my professional opinion.'

Widow furrowed her brow pridefully.

'I never asked for her help.'

Mercy shook her finger, "tsking" all the while.

'That might be a discussion worth having in the future with your saviour, for according to her, your scream for "help" couldn't have been louder.'

 _Blink_

When Widow wasn't being facilitated, or sometimes even if she was, her arms and legs were bound. When Mercy left for her mission, the doctor had been sure to relocate Widow to a new room, this one reserved for other individuals that were bedridden for one reason or another. It was very much like a small hospital, and hearing the hustle and bustle of Overwatch medics and soldiers who were hurt to some degree helped Widow not focus so harshly on her own conflicting thoughts and memories. Her bed was covered by curtains, and she was provided a television to watch or use to listen to music. She generally opted to just sleep, but on a rare occasion or two, she observed what the entertainment had to give her.

Food was displayed before Widow when it was time to eat, her hands unbound but a number of grunts present to facilitate the assassin's basic function. During her dinner the next day, one of the Overwatch agents finally said something to Widow beyond cordial greetings or instructions to hurry up and finish her meal.

'Talon killed my brother.' The man stated quite clearly, and immediately, one of the other agents grabbed his arm, the gesture being shaken off as he stepped forward, closer to Widow, a fork and knife in her delicate looking hands.

She didn't feel the need to respond in any way, and simply ignored him.

'Why we're helping one of their deadliest members is beyond me.'

Widow looked up, met his furious eyes, and grinned, blowing him a small kiss.

'You bitch…!'

The punch hurt. It actually hurt. Like the shockwaves before it, Widow tasted blood, and it practically unsettled her. The other men escorted their brother out, leaving only a primary agent assigned to Widow for this meal, and another agent.

Widow's lip was cut, and her tongue may have been bit down on as well. Not a single napkin was offered, and the rest of her food had a unique taste to it. The rest of mealtime was executed in a heavy, piercing silence.

 _Blink_

Soap operas. She recalled finding some bizarre pleasure in such trash. Widow discovered the channel that played favouritism to such a genre, and she watched a multitude of episodes following her breakfast the day after a subtle bruise was planted on her left cheek. Before the woman knew it, and upon learning that David's fourth wife was, in fact, the daughter he had abandoned once he was told his first wife was pregnant, it was lunch time, and Tracer entered with a large tray and bag, her clothes casual but sporty at once, as though she was ready to play a game of basketball or the like at any given time.

'Heya, Luv! Feels like it's been a while, huh?'

Widow exhaled sharply, a strange murmuring passing through her veins at the sight of her "saviour", as Mercy had so brutally put it.

'Not long enough.' She answered lowly.

'You're lookin' pretty good though! Combed your hair, yeah? Brought you somethin'! More clothes. They're comfy things, but a little more flattering, I think. Hopefully I got your measurements right. If not, I can always do some exchanges.'

'Really now?' Widow shook her head, disgusted by the way she found a touch of fulfillment in the fact Tracer was actually acknowledging her existence as a human being. Being ignored so blatantly, or better yet, being openly hated was weighing on Widow. If she still lacked most of her emotions, such silliness wouldn't bother her, but…

'Oi! What's this? Cheesy acting, innit? Looks real old! They only give you one channel in here?' Tracer indicated Widow's program, and the older woman sighed, turning it off in frustration and, perhaps, slight embarrassment.

'It's none of your concern.'

'Guess you're right there.' Tracer plopped herself in a chair, hastily releasing both Widow's arm and feet binds. The assassin stretched tall, not having any such luxury with a single one of the other "caretakers". She felt Tracer's eyes on her for a moment, but by the time she turned to the other girl, she was already poking through the computer, obviously not finding what she had hoped to.

'Alrighty. I brought you a sandwich, an orange juice, and some cookies. What are we, in high school again?'

'It's fine.' Widow snatched the bottle of orange juice, rather parched since her morning meal "accidently" lacked any form of beverage. She downed almost the whole container of the good stuff, noting Tracer's curious eyes again.

'And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get in over here. Some major stuff coming down the pipeline, especially with Ange going to a big science thingy that could reveal a whole buncha bugs under a rock. I have to help with a lot of the future missions. We also had to welcome a couple of more Overwatch members as well. Lucio is finally here, which means I managed to complete _one_ of my official missions, and the other is a sharpshooter that I haven't talked to _that_ much, but apparently he's super – '

'You truly ramble, don't you?' Widow tasted her sandwich, still amazed by the returning sense and what it could offer here and there.

'Only because you _don't_. Girl can't just sit here and stare at you.' Tracer laughed, scratching the back of her head. 'Well, not that it would be terrible, mind you.'

'Disgusting.' Widow chided.

'Still think so, huh?'

'Without a doubt.'

'You mentioned maybe given it a go though, right? Remember that?'

'I do. I also recall suggesting I would kill you immediately after, however.'

'Ahah! And there's the question: Would it be worth it? I'm thinkin'…maybe?'

'Lunacy.' Widow grinned a little, and Tracer giggled. There was a pause, and then the hyperactive girl went on again, of course. But what she said next _did_ surprise Widow to an extent.

'Hey, so…um…about the other day; I'm still feeling pretty crumby about it. I mean, I was just trying to help, but the more I go over it, the more I think I wasn't considering your feelings at all. It was…really cruel of me to think showing you a pretty sunset would fix anything.'

Widow didn't have a response. She really didn't. Perhaps this little girl wasn't a complete imbecile. She allowed her to go on.

'So, yeah. I'm sorry. I really am. You've been through hell. I…didn't have a clue. I got all the facts now though, and…gosh, I feel like a real bloody idiot.'

Widow exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and wondering what had come over her.

'You…didn't know. That's all.' She mumbled. 'It is my problem to work through.'

'But it doesn't have to be, Luv! I'll do what I can, okay? Just say the word and I can – ' Tracer stopped, squinting and moving in closer to Widow. 'Bloody hell…! What the actual hell happened to your face? I couldn't see it because of that fun skin colour of yours but…that's a bruise, innit?'

Widow turned so the injury was out of view, scowling all the while.

'It's nothing.' She mumbled. She deserved as much. She deserved more than a little bruise. She had killed so many. The urge to rip at her own wounds upon her arm tickled her fancy, and the filthy tattoo given to her by Talon only made the rage worst.

'It ain't nothing, Luv! Someone here do this to you?' Tracer pulled open the curtains, her voice suddenly bursting from her chest. 'Anyone know who hit one of our patients? Huh? Speak up!'

Widow heard some footsteps approach Tracer, and the girl exited the little room for a second, a small conversation occurring prior to the furious girl returning.

'It ain't goin' unpunished. We do _not_ hurt the wounded here. If my rank is good for anything, it's good for this. He's going to the bottom of the barrel…if he's lucky. He's outta here if I have anything to do with it. Overwatch is made up of heroes, not scum like that who would hit a bound woman. Bloody hell!'

There was something to be said about the way Tracer got so riled up. Chivalry? Is that what she was displaying? Gerard was a professional on such things, in most cases. It was an attractive trait; one of Widow's favourites. She sighed inwardly, finishing her sandwich.

'I'm sorry, Amelie. Really.'

'Do not call me that if you _are_ sorry. I'm Widowmaker.'

'Really?'

'Yes.' Widow insisted, meeting the Brit's comical stare and putting an edge to it.

'Fine. I'll give for now.'

'Good girl.'

'Oof!' Tracer shivered. 'Somethin' kinda kinky about you saying stuff like that!'

'You're despicable.'

'But you're finally talking to me, so, that's a start.' She giggled, and Widow rolled her eyes.

'What choice do I have? You simply drone on and on lest I do engage on some level.'

Widow finished her meal, thankful for the nutrients. Her strength was building back up, and she cracked her neck as she stood, looking to Tracer's bag.

'You wanna change now?'

'Perhaps.'

'Kay. I'll wait outside.'

'Oh?' Widow raised a brow. 'Trusting, aren't we?'

'Meh. That necklace works, don't it?'

'…Rather well, yes.'

'Heh. Sorry. Gotta do it though.'

Widow flicked her head toward the curtain, and Tracer was gone with a flippant wave. Widow then extracted the clothing provided, and was shocked with how well the stretchy pants clung to her lower half in all the right places. It was similar to her default Talon gear in its elasticity, which gave a cruel sense of comfort. The shirt was a simple tank top, black in colour, naturally, and once more, it fit perfectly, which began to creep Widow out.

'All done?' Tracer inquired.

'…Yes.'

The girl entered again and whistled, observing Widow putting her hair into an overly long ponytail.

'Jesus murphy, lady. You clean up nice.'

'Enough of your attempt at flirtation. It's becoming more than slightly tiresome.'

'But you like it, don't you?' Tracer winked, and Widow crossed her arms, snapping her head to the side.

'Are you completely mad? Do I seem to derive _any_ pleasure from your hollow compliments?'

'Uh…yeah. I can tell. One of my many super talents.'

Widow's eye twitched, and she decided to leave the pointless conversation at that. What did this child know about anything? She could fight, Widow would give her that, but that's all she could do well. This "super talent" she spoke of was simply nonexistent.

'Anyway, I was thinking of taking you out again if you're up for it. What do ya say? I still think being up and going is some of the best medicine you can take for mental stress, you know? I'll escort you around and we can just kinda relax together.'

'Ugh.' Widow groaned. 'Doesn't Overwatch have a more pressing task for you? The second Omnic War is nearly upon us, and Talon likely hasn't stayed quiet since my disappearance. Yet, here you are, babysitting a murderer with the selfish hope of turning a mad dog against its previous owner.'

'Oh, now that would be great, but I just wanna help while I can, because I _am_ one of the best here. Heheh! I'm hopin' I don't get put back onto the field until Ange returns for you, but like you said, things could get messy real quick anytime now. I've asked to be assigned missions only I can do so I can help you out. This is a rough time, yeah?'

Widow wouldn't deny it. Tracer provided an adequate distraction, but when left with her thoughts and memories, Widow could feel her whole body sinking into the mattress, the sheets engulfing her and filling her mouth with suffocation. Another breakdown felt so close, but with this pesky girl nearby, the world seemed just a little less bleak.

'…Do what you will.'

'Plannin' on it.' Tracer giggled, and she took Widow by the wrist, practically dragging her out of the public medical wing.

 _Blink_

'This here is the shooting range! What do you think?'

'I suspect you're insane.' Widow blinked, the sounds of a gun being fired deafening in between conversation. 'You would bring _me_ here of all places? I could end you in the blink of an eye.'

'Ange actually suggested it in one of her e-mails. She said familiarity my help calm your nerves. Your body's conditioned to, like, _want_ to pull the trigger. We can't just cold turkey you from that. She thinks it could make the adjustment period way worse. I got the place booked anyway. Another high rank perk. Heheh! I hear one guy left though, so, just give me a sec.'

Tracer dashed off to where a rapid number of rounds were being unloaded, the succession of the attack rather impressive, especially if any of the bullets were landing. The gun sounded very old, however, perhaps even a relic of the days before pulse rounds were primarily used. Widow shivered, but not in a horrible way. Like an addiction, she craved the feeling of a gun in her hands and the trigger being pulled. Mercy was correct, it appeared. This itch could finally be scratched, and with that, maybe – just maybe – Widow could find a bit of peace temporarily. Again, it was, at the very least, a decent distraction.

'Oi! Look who I found! One of the best shots we got!' Tracer displayed a rustic looking man ripped straight out of a Western film from eons ago. Gerard loved such flicks, and although Widow had, at one time, teased him for enjoying such folly, part of her had found it also incredibly endearing. Her grown, mature husband always got rather wound up during the inevitable bar fight scenes, and he would hoot and holler with every glass broken and chair shattered. The memories were fresh, and Widow breathed out shakily, attempting to gather herself.

'Good evening.'

'Hey there, little lady. Evening. Name's Jesse McCree. Heard yer a bit of a space case thanks to good ol' Talon.' He tipped his hat and gave a respectable bow.

'…That is one way to put it.'

'Yeah.' McCree adjusted his belt, playing with a toothpick in his mouth and swishing his jaw around. 'Not much to say that hasn't been said, I'm sure, but know that yer husband there was a good man s'far as I knew. Worked hard and got results. Real respectable like.'

Widow closed her eyes, fighting back the irritating emotions that wished to overtake her. This man's accent, paired with his outfit, combined with the images of Gerard pumping his fists in the air at a poorly done barfight hurt; it pained her to consider. She shrugged the barrage away, scratching her arm.

'Listen,' McCree went on, softening some. 'I know a thing or two about redemption, so yer not gonna get a hard time from me. But Tracer here seems to think you got yerself a good shot, and I can get real competitive like when it comes to that kinda thing, so, what do you say? Wanna have ourselves a friendly duel with the fancy scoreboard here?'

Widow's vision returned, and she gave Tracer a look, the younger girl nodding excitedly.

'If you "agents" truly believe it is wise to provide Widowmaker with a firearm of any kind, then so be it. I won't reject your challenge. However, be aware, it may be the last mistake you ever make.'

'Think she's threatenin' us, Tracer.'

'She likes to act tough.'

'From what I hear, she _is_ tough. Gave you a run fer your money, didn't she?'

'Wish I could say that's rubbish, but…'

'Are we doing this or not?' Widow huffed, her hands on her hips.

'Oh. I think I like her.' McCree grinned. 'Gerard always bragged about havin' the prettiest thing fer a wife, but I thought he was jus' talkin' outta his ass. Turns out he was right…blue skin and all.'

'Jesse…' Tracer warned, but Widow lifted a hand to her, not hating hearing such flattery coming from her husband's past. It touched the wound, but not too undesirably.

'Hand me a gun.' Widow changed the position of her outstretched limb. 'I'll show you he fell for more than just a "pretty" face.'

'Heheh. Liken' you more and more, sweetums.' The "cowboy" accepted.

Both competitors were in position within seconds, and although standard protocol dictated eyewear to be required, neither contestant deemed it necessary. Widow readied the standard practise rifle in her hand, gauging the weight and kickback with two shots before giving the thumbs up.

'Maybe one of Lucio's newest tracks will help spice things up!' Tracer called out, and she must've connected her phone to the speaker system, because sure enough, a somewhat bass-heavy song came on, the electric rhythm nearly off-putting at first, but soon thereafter speaking with Widow's soul, her hips swaying ever so slightly in conjunction with the high-energy song.

'Holographic targets pop up at random, the next target only showing up when a successful headshot is made. This round is about speed and accuracy. It's the hardest course our shooting range has to offer. I kinda suck at it, but it's perfect for your style of shooting. Ready?'

Widow breathed out, a small moan escaping her lips with anticipation. Her eyes widened, and her body buzzed with rapture. The music caressed her form, stroking her waist and shoulders, a strange, familiar infatuation making her narrow her focus and become razor sharp.

'Go!'

A buzzer sounded, and Widow didn't blink, moving from one target to another as if knowing where they were going to appear. The satisfying clicks signifying her headshots shocked her groin, and she licked her lips in between her eighth and ninth shot. This went on and on, and Widow synced her movements with the music, synthesizing everything with the beat right down to her inhales and exhales. The world imposed around her, and she pictured Gerard watching her, as he had during so many of her ballet performances. He was proud. He was ever proud. He was proud of her talent and dedication. He never failed to introduce Widow with the most ridiculous grin. She was ever embarrassed, but she would kill to see that smile again. She wanted to feel his hand on her shoulder, rubbing her waist and moving down to her derriere when he suspected nobody could see him. Widow had always given him grief for going public with his displays of affection, but part of her revelled in his complete infatuation.

He was proud. He was so proud of her. He was proud of not only her beauty, but her intelligence, her strength, her will, her grace, her consideration, her emotion.

As Widow shot down one after another, her heart turned, and she saw Gerard in one of the holograms. His neck was bleeding, and his eyes were terrified. He was ashamed.

Would he be proud of this talent for death and destruction? Never.

'And finished!' Tracer hollered, the buzzer sounding behind her. 'Survey says…'

'Heh. Looks like I won this little thing, my lady.' A voice commented. It was gruff and filled with smoke.

'What happened, Luv!? You were in the lead, but then, at the end, you kinda stopped or something!' Another squeaky one added.

'Not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe she's still tired? We'll give it another shot someday. Best clean up now. Torbs will have a hissy fit if we don't.'

Enemies…

'Aw, rubbish. My money was on her.'

Overwatch. Enemies…

'Course it was.'

Kill them all.

'Hey! Don't say it like that!'

Kill all Overwatch agents on sight.

Widow fired once, but upon the attempt to shoot again, electricity paralyzed her, and she convulsed on the ground, the wave of lightening rendering her immobile completely.

'Jesus…!' Tracer blinked, her body still blue from the quick dodge.

'Lena!? What the hell was that?' McCree asked, not at all sounding impressed.

'A work in progress.' Tracer responded, kicking Widow's gun away and slapping her in the face. Slowly, the abuse hurt more and more, and Widow coughed, spitting out some built-up saliva. 'You there, Luv? Who am I?'

Widow grunted, but managed to prop herself up with her elbows, still choking a little.

'…An annoyance.'

'Welcome back, Luv.'

 _Blink_

'Ange said that might happen. Don't worry about a thing. I turned your necklace on again the second the match was over.'

Widow was back in her bed within the medical wing, but still unbound. She travelled with Tracer in silence once she could walk, but the girl just acted as though nothing had occurred. As if, in a fit of insanity, Widow hadn't tried to kill her. Her hands were shaking. They wouldn't stop shaking. Finally, Tracer placed her own hand atop Widow's and Widow, to her surprise, didn't brush it off. The warmth calmed the anxiety. She was scared of her own body and what it could do. With Tracer's grip so close, maybe she could stop her if such lunacy controlled her again.

'It's okay, Luv. All part of the healing process. You did really well, all things considered. High risk high reward, as they say. That's my style, if you didn't know already.'

'You're…such a fool…' Widow whimpered, but it wasn't what she really wanted to say. Her mind was muddled, and her forehead throbbed.

'Yeah. I know.'

'Why…?' Widow continued.

'Because I'm a hero, Luv. Because I can. Because I promised someone important that I could help change the world. That's all there is to it. I'm a simple girl.'

'I tried to kill you…'

'Widowmaker tried to kill me. Amelie is shaking in my hand because the very last thing she would ever want to do is hurt someone. Amelie is a soft, caring, smart, athletic, strong, dramatic woman who can be a little prickly but is also definitely someone I wouldn't mind getting to know a little better.'

Widow shivered, blinking back the tears forming in her cybernetic eyes.

'Ever the fool…'

Tracer simply grinned, and she placed her other free hand on Widow's face, holding her cheek so very gingerly. It was impossible to flinch away from. It was as though Tracer's sincere passion and desire to help was sedating the cold science burning Widow's soul from the inside out.

'I'm gonna get you something to drink. Got any requests?'

'…Green tea. A croissant wouldn't be turned away either.'

'You got it. I'll be right back, kay?'

'Fine.'

'I have to bind you though, alright? Sorry.'

'…Please do.'

'Really?'

'…Really.'

Tracer retracted both her hands, and Widow felt a chill run her spine. The bubbly girl waved as she left once the binds were in place. The silence of the room pounded in Widow's brain. She was more confused than ever before. Feelings she didn't know she could still have throbbed within her chest, and she controlled her breaths, disallowing her brain from processing more than absolutely necessary.

However, her momentary ray of hope was snuffed instantaneously the moment the singular projected monitor in her room switched from her basic stats, from Mercy's last evaluation, to a purple hued screen with a terrifying message that was clearly hacked into.

wE mIsS yOu SpIdEr TiMe To CoMe BaCk AnD pLaY

LolOLoLoloLOlOlOlllOlllOOOOlllOOOOLLLLLLooo


	36. XXXVI: Mercy

Mercy

Their departure was early the next morning. With the mission outline reviewed thoroughly, Angela had made sure to get plenty of rest the night before. Even with Fareeha as her bodyguard, she had to be completely ready for anything within the restrictions presented by the convention they would be attending. Fareeha was being trusted with a mission generally relayed to that of the Master class or higher. Only due to Angela's preference and recommendation was she honoured with such a position beside the irreplaceable doctor. At once, Fareeha likely felt absurdly fortunate, but on the other hand, she surely had to admit to the pressure also building. She couldn't fail in protecting Angela. Talon had made it clear they wanted her, and any fool would assume the organization would use this formal presentation within Oasis as an opportunity to pull one of the few linchpins that held Overwatch's relevancy against Talon away. Fortunately, the airtight security, rules, and regulations in association with the presentation that restricted Overwatch's ability to send half a battalion to ensure Angela's safety applied to Talon as well. Both companies would have support in the wings, but in the hottest spot of the scenario, very few would be allowed to freely come and go.

It was raining, from what Angela could hear, while she waited for Fareeha to come get her in the early morning. They had barely seen one another since bidding goodnight and departing after a rather intense session of kissing and…a little more. Angela had so much prep to do in relation to her work with Widowmaker and anytime she left her office in general that there was almost no time for frivolous activity. Fareeha had – ever so sweetly – given the older woman her privacy, with only a couple of texts encouraging her and subtly hinting at missing her.

It made Angela swoon…which she thought she was far past being capable of doing.

And yet, Angela's chest felt heavy, and as she waited for Fareeha, a pressure built about her while she reviewed her own charts and data, the numbers collected from her long overdue maintenance on her nanomachines and physical condition as a whole not precisely idealistic.

As suspected, her body was not what it once was. The toll of relying so heavily on the nanomachines was beginning to rear its ugly head, and the fact she had been so recently mortally wounded helped matters little. To think she was once capable of reviving an entire group of nearly dead soldiers with a sweep of her hands so easily. She truly was ethereal then. Now, she questioned the ability to bring even one dying individual back successfully. At this rate, how much time did she have before the spasm that prevented her from truly enjoying Fareeha's welcomed aggression became a regular addition to her everyday functions? Angela _looked_ barely over twenty, but she understood her body better than anyone else, and she had legitimate concerns going forward. So long as she wasn't severely hurt again she may see a couple more decades easily in her current state, but even that was far below her projected conclusions when initiating the experiment in the first place.

A soft knock startled Angela up, and she pushed some hair behind her ear, her heart fluttering at the thought of who was finally here to see her. She decided to wear a somewhat large, maroon sweater that showed just a little bit of her left shoulder with black leggings. It was fun ordering clothes for herself and imagining Fareeha's reaction to them. The shipping time, due to the proximity of some of the outlets, was hardly a day as well. In fact, Angela had managed to procure quite the dress for the upcoming event; one she looked forward to showing off to a certain individual, as silly as she felt imagining as much.

Angela went to the door, giggling a little as she turned on the intercom.

'Who is it?'

"Um…Fareeha."

'Fareeha? _The_ Fareeha Amari? The same Fareeha who quickly rose in the ranks of Overwatch after just joining and now is my assigned bodyguard? Goodness! Isn't this sort of mission usually reserved for only the best?'

"…Yes."

Angela held in her laughter, going on.

'My. To think I would finally meet you. I must say, I'm rather nervous. I'm told you're quite intimidating and fierce. Is this true?'

"I can be."

Angela bit her lip, leaning against the door with her back and finding much joy in the teasing. It eased her so.

'Truly? How frightening! But I've also been told, by many a young man, that you are also somewhat dashing, capable of making both men _and_ women sigh in admiration. Is this also true?'

"I don't know about that, but I _do_ know there is only one person I wish to cause any such reaction in."

'Ah! A crush? How charming! And who is this lucky soul, might I ask?'

"Er…You, Angela."

'Heheheh!' Angela laughed loudly, opening her door and beaming with her hands behind her back. 'You're so honest, Fareeha, it's positively adorable.'

'Why must you toy with me?' Fareeha grinned, leaning against the doorway and standing tall over Angela, her army tag dangling about her chest. She was keeping her attire functional, committing to a simple, black tank top and some stressed jeans that looked too good considering how simple the outfit was.

Angela reached up and grabbed at the woman's shirt, not believing just how calm she felt in the other girl's presence. How the world didn't seem so lonely anymore. How Fareeha had inserted herself as an individual Angela struggled to live without for only a few days.

'Here…?' Fareeha asked in consideration.

'Here.' Angela answered, kissing her softly, and drinking in the sensation of the woman's strong yet gentle lips. She shivered once the brief exchange was complete, and backed away a little, unconsciously glancing outside her room to see if any guards had noticed the interaction from afar.

'I've missed you, Angela. Very much. I trained a large amount with Brigitte, whom I think likes me enough, but I thought about you often.'

'Well, I've been rather busy, so, the hours simply flew by for me, personally.' Angela continued to jest, but the flash of disappointment that passed over Fareeha's powerful visage stabbed into Angela's chest, and she held Fareeha's waist hastily, looking up at her lovingly. 'I-I'm joking, Fareeha. Really. Why, I've never had so much trouble focusing on any given task. I've missed you severely as well. I doubt I've ever looked forward to a mission like this one before.'

'Oh. Good. I suppose I'm still gullible at times. Heheh.'

'Truly. You should know by now.'

'Know that you draw such pleasure from seeing me panic?'

'Exactly!'

'…You're right. I _should_ expect it at this point.'

'See?' Angela tapped Fareeha's chest, standing close to the woman and wishing they had just a little more time to spend alone in that moment.

'You look very pretty, by the way.' Fareeha said suddenly, and Angela's face burned, forcing her back to hide the immediate reaction. How many men had told her as much and she barely bat an eye? What an astronomical difference. Human emotion was ever the fascinating subject for research.

'My thanks. You're as dashing as they say as well.' Angela attempted to recover, going to her small suitcase and wheeling it over. 'A pity it's raining. Makes for a rather dismal departure.'

'A little. The weather will be different in Iraq, however, and I hear Oasis has the ability to manipulate the environment to a degree as well. Sounds like quite the place! I've only read a bit about it, never thinking I would have reason to venture there, so I'm excited about the trip in that regard as well.'

'Agreed. The last time I was in Oasis was perhaps a decade ago, so, it will be riveting to see just how much the place has changed as well.'

'In any case,' Fareeha reached down and loaded Angela's suitcase under one of her arms, dragging the other behind her and bringing out an umbrella. 'Shall we?'

'You do not have to handle so much at once, Fareeha. I am capable of toting that silly thing around.'

'It would be my honour, Angela. I've built myself up to such tasks.'

Angela sighed, but knew that denying Fareeha the job would be more insulting than not, and therefore, moved in close to her, enjoying the quiet of the morning as they ventured out and to the loading bay. The umbrella was only required here and there, due to the way Overwatch Gibraltar was designed, but it was a nice excuse to stay so tightly next to Fareeha as they moved about. The rain pellets were powerful and made an incredible amount of noise upon the roofing. It was almost a little eerie, in a way.

'Will we have a pilot, or are you flying, Fareeha?'

'After the last incident I insisted on being the pilot. Is that alright?'

Angela smiled to herself, taking Fareeha's forearm in her hands and snuggling into her as they traversed closer to their current destination.

'Not at all. I could trust nobody more.'

'Heh. I _do_ enjoy flying, so it only makes sense.'

'Indeed.'

A pause, and Angela could feel the sudden apprehension from her lovely companion before she even started speaking again.

'How…are you feeling, Angela? Are you doing well enough to be going on this mission?'

The implications were subtle enough, but obvious to Angela, and she at once was thankful yet repelled by the necessity of perhaps speaking of her secrets in all eventuality.

'I performed an overdue checkup on myself, yes. All is well.'

'Oh…' Fareeha responded solemnly, and Angela was honestly surprised, urged to investigate the lackluster singular syllable.

'You do not sound satisfied.'

'Well, I'm not.' Fareeha answered curtly, which was part of her charm. 'I'm generally able to tell when you're lying to me by this point. Your voice changes a bit. Maybe it becomes a little softer? My ears burn when I hear that tone. I…could be wrong, I guess.' Fareeha stopped, turning to Angela and looking down at her with her honest gaze. 'Am I?'

Another pause, Angela squirming within and her heart physically hurting somehow.

'Not entirely.'

'Ah. So long as I'm not going crazy.' Fareeha shrugged, beginning onward once more.

'You're…not going to push more?'

'No. You'll tell me when you want to. I know that. And my opinion on the matter hasn't changed. It's painful to think you simply won't give me details when it's related to your very wellbeing, but there is nothing for it. I'll just remain by your side. That's all I can do.'

'I-I see…' Angela looked at the ground as the walked, and she could soon hear the buzzing of machinery, the anti-gravity units from their bird humming deeply within the loading bay. Jack, Winston, Torbjorn, and Ana were all present, a number of other maintenance crew members doing final circle checks of the small aircraft. Winston and Torbjorn were directly involved with the evaluations, while Jack and Ana clearly reviewed the mission's details via a portable holographic screen and handheld computer hub.

Fareeha had already folded up her umbrella, and when the two women were spotted by the other Overwatch agents, Jack gave a small nod and Ana (mask equipped when around regular members of Overwatch, it seemed), practically skipped to her daughter and Angela.

'How are you both doing? Are you ready?' She asked, sizing up Fareeha and the two suitcases she carried. 'How chivalrous of you! Guess I raised you just fine.' She whispered the last bit to the two girls.

'She's exceedingly considerate.' Angela agreed.

'I'll load these up.' Fareeha decided, splitting from Angela and Ana, the two older women left alone briefly.

'Is she doing well? Perhaps nervous?' Ana questioned rightfully.

'I…may have upset her a tad, but it isn't something we can't work through.'

'Oh?' Ana crossed her arms. 'Before a mission that _requires_ you get along? That's troublesome. Shall I accompany you myself, then?'

'Heavens, no. We'll be fine.'

'I certainly hope so.'

Angela grinned wryly, walking past Ana to avoid further prying. She could be annoyingly insightful.

'You reviewed the details of the mission?' Jack grunted.

'Naturally. At its core, it's simply a recon task, is it not?'

'Ideally that's all it will be, but we all know Talon won't keep it so simple, and we'll use that to our advantage in the worst-case scenario. Overwatch agents are already en route. However, the issue is how tight security will be. Unless absolutely necessary, we don't want to raise any hell.'

'Understood.'

'Well, that's that. You're an experienced soldier, so, I won't waste any more of your time.'

'I'd prefer you refer to me as a doctor.'

'…Fair enough.'

Angela observed Fareeha step out of the aircraft, returning to her side, to the older woman's relief.

'It is a fine vehicle.' She appraised.

'Not bad, huh?' Jack agreed. 'Winston and Torbjorn made some adjustments. That mechanic of ours also left you a present. Watching too many movies, but it's brilliant, I'll give him that.'

'He told me.' Fareeha nodded, a glimmer in her eyes.

'Oh? Sounds intriguing!' Angela pried softly.

'You'll have to wait and see.' Fareeha jabbed a bit, and the doctor could only take the abuse in stride.

'Everything looks a-okay.' Winston's massive form produced a shadow suddenly. 'She can fly on auto-pilot for most of your trip, but you're more than welcome to take the wheel if needed. With that said, is our special guest all situated? Lena will be watching over her for the time being?'

'Certainly.' Angela confirmed. 'If time permits, and if she is willing, I may be able to perform some form of operation on her brain upon returning. I have compiled a fair amount of data, and it's a feasible, if exceptionally risky.'

'Oh? Already?' Winston sounded surprised. 'Impressive! From the information you sent me, it all still seemed somewhat cryptic.'

'It is.' Angela shrugged. 'But I'll have time to review everything I've collected thus far during this trip, and I imagine some pieces will fall into place for me in that window.'

'I know how temperamental these silly machines can be, so I can only imagin' what it'd be like to tinker with something like a brain. Gives me a headache jus' thinkin' about it.' Groaned Torbjorn.

'It shall be a sizeable challenge; I will not deny that.'

'And if you run into Moira? What then?' Ana asked intelligently.

'Well, I would love if she simply provided me with the notes created during her own experimentation, but I suspect we are all aware that the chances of such fortune are quite slim.'

'That woman's always seen you as one of the only people in the world that could challenge her in both your respective fields of science. She's a madwoman now, any chains Overwatch had placed on her broken, allowing her to twist her subjects into monsters.' Jack spoke bitterly, and it was obvious he was likely thinking of Gabriel. Angela knew _she_ was.

'I will offer a hand of peace if she so desires, but I'm certain it will be in vain.' Angela concluded. 'In any case; Fareeha? Are we ready?'

'We are.'

'Then farewell to you all, my friends. I am in good hands.'

'You're not alone. Both of you. We have eyes and ears on the convention centre. If there's any sign of chaos, we'll be there. In the worst-case scenario, remember to utilize the emergency signal on your phones.' Winston encouraged, and the group said their goodbyes from there.

* * *

The rain continued to come down hard, making for an innately uncomfortable trip. Angela didn't mind a nice afternoon shower, but the storm was shifting into something akin to perilous, and the aircraft, because of its size, was batted around a little more than she would prefer. Fareeha had taken the direction of their flight herself, easily navigating on course while making minor adjustments to create as smooth an experience as she could given the circumstances. If she wasn't in control, Angela might've been even more nervous.

The plane dipped suddenly, and Angela squeaked, the lack of stabilization causing her stomach to flip and her ears to pop.

'We will be fine, Angela. My apologies for the rough trip.' Fareeha finally said, much of the journey thus far consisting of the two women evaluating their situation and the bad timing of it all.

'It's alright. I've never _really_ liked flying, but I've learned to accept it as part of my life, for the most part. I doubt even _my_ body could recover from such a fall.'

'I would be more frightened if it could.' Fareeha laughed.

'True. It would be quite the sight, although I'm told I appeared to be that of the walking dead once that berserker type omnic was done with me. How horrifying!'

'Heh! If it meant you surviving, then I am thankful for the sight.'

'Oh, yes. Without my nanomachines I would have been mortally wounded beyond repair. I've never experienced such pain before. I truly suspected it was my last fight, to be perfectly honest.'

Fareeha's grip on the aircraft tightened, and Angela could see the way her focus faltered.

'If I lost you then…I cannot imagine the void my heart would have felt.'

'Aw. Truly?'

'Of course. I was already infatuated beyond reason. I still am, as a matter of fact.'

Angela allowed the compliment to settle her anxious mind, and she grinned to herself, sneaking little glances of Fareeha as she flew another plane for them, once again ensuring Angela's safety.

'Considering what the future may hold for you and I spurred me into somewhat reckless action as well, Fareeha. I wished to get to know you better; and I am overjoyed at the prospect of doing so even now. This mission is a delight, although I have some reservations considering I won't be capable of helping any of our wounded during our absence.'

'I thought of that as well. This sort of celebration of science doesn't seem like your cup of tea. Brilliant minds stroking one another's ego, isn't it?'

Angela sighed loudly.

'Precisely. I've always perceived it as a waste of time, and rarely ventured out to such silliness.'

'I imagine you were eyed by many a man during any form of social gathering, let alone ones where colleagues felt they had more of a chance with you.'

'I suppose. Thinking back, I'm almost guaranteed to be approached this time as well, considering the consistency of such interactions from the past.'

'Did you ever take any of them up on their offers?'

'Well,' Angela smiled mischievously. Fareeha had delivered the question with a rather passive tone, but her evident jealousy was overly delightful. 'It's nothing I haven't told you before. I entertained an outing or two following presentations such as this one, but they never extended beyond that. Ah! In fact,' Angela chuckled. 'I had one brave soul attempt to take me directly back to his hotel room. _That_ was his idea of a date, apparently. He was somewhat fetching, so perhaps that's why, but I ended it right then and there. I recall the look on his face clearly.'

'Heh. I can imagine.'

Angela nibbled on her lip a little, lowering her voice and focusing on the conversation rather than the turbulent weather.

'The only person that has been even slightly sexually active with me, Fareeha…is you.'

The younger woman's hands practically slipped off the steering, and Angela could only howl, hiding her own embarrassment in the moment of hilarity.

'R-right.'

'That being said, I want you to know that I did not dislike what transpired between us that night. Indeed, I have never felt such arousal before in my life. It was quite educational! You can only understand something like that so much without experiencing it firsthand. I am quite satisfied with my expanded knowledge in the realm of pleasure.'

It was Fareeha's turn to laugh loudly, her voice like a beautiful, somewhat deep set of wind chimes ringing in Angela's ears.

'I'm glad! I found it…um…very agreeable as well.'

'Have you reflected on our lovemaking often since then?' Angela couldn't help herself.

'…M-maybe…Once or twice.'

'Such resolve! Perhaps this trip will allow us to take our relationship even further?'

'Stop it.' Fareeha breathed out deeply, the air exhaled loud and controlled. 'Please don't tease me about that. Even now, with your…shoulder exposed as such, I'm tempted into distraction.'

'Really…?' Angela blushed, glancing to the spoken of body part.

'Have you no understanding of your allure? God. You drive me mad with anticipation. I honestly wish I _could_ leave this plane in autopilot so I could…Ugh!'

'So you could take me entirely?'

'Something…like that.'

Angela giggled, noticing that the pitter patter of the rain had finally dulled some, and specks of blue were in the distance at last. She sighed in relief, leaning back in her chair and extracting her portable computer device, projecting a small screen and immediately tapping away at the charts and numbers that presented themselves to her instantly.

'Good. I can focus a little better now that I am quite certain the remainder of our flight shall be safe.'

'Work?' Fareeha inquired, just a touch of irritation dabbling in her intonation.

'Always, my dear. There's always something I should be working on in some capacity.'

'Oh…'

'It's the reality of my life. I assumed you were aware of as much.' Angela decided now was better than never. She had delayed the inevitable conversation, but they still had a few hours to go, and Fareeha truly needed to know. 'I am constantly receiving e-mails from doctors around the world asking for my opinion. I try to reply to as many as possible, knowing it may very well be a life I'm helping to save. Additionally, I have my own research ongoing, and patients – like Widowmaker – who are also still under my care, to an extent. I very rarely have surmountable time to myself, in most cases. When I do, it's riddled with guilt due to the fact I may be neglecting an inquiry that could help another patient.' She paused, unsure of how Fareeha was taking the implications.

'Relationships…have ever been a prospect in my life I didn't feel fit well with what I desire to do. Perhaps that's why I've always kept others at arm's length. I'm aware of how painful it might be to not have one's partner mentally available. Even now, you were agitated by my need to work, correct?'

A beat.

'Slightly.'

'I'm happy you're honest, Fareeha.'

'It's only because of my own greed. I'm sorry if I gave off the impression that it bothered me too much.'

'That's quite a noble evaluation. However, I would understand if this form of lifestyle might be undesirable eventually. It's not for everyone. It's certainly not for most partners.'

'I see.' Fareeha answered quietly.

Angela smiled wryly to herself. What if Fareeha did reject her now? What if what Angela asked of her was too much? It would be completely understandable. Who wanted to be in a relationship with someone who was also in love with their work? It would be akin to having a third wheel, and that could only be frustrating beyond compare. Still…it was frightening. Very frightening. More frightening than Angela wanted to admit. The prospect of losing Fareeha; nothing had ever come close to Angela's pursuits. Of Mercy's pursuits. Yet Fareeha…this young woman next to Angela, she was already almost just as valuable. How was that possible? How did it mathematically make sense?

'Despite this, you still wish to be with me…er…in a relationship?' Fareeha confirmed, and Angela's chest hurt.

'I do. Against reason, I…I am quite taken by you, Fareeha.' It was the truth. It was the honest, vulnerable truth.

'Then my answer is simple; I shall prepare coffee or tea and provide massages as needed. I will ensure your helping of the world is just a little more comfortable. If that's the least I can do, then I shall gladly oblige. You're not alone anymore, Angela; remember that.'

'Ah…' Angela gripped her chest, almost digging her fingers into the skin. 'You would…do such things for me? Really?'

'With honour.'

'That…isn't fair, Fareeha. It's far too lopsided. Our relationship can only end in misery if such imbalance is in play. I can already see the conclusion to that particular experiment.'

'We won't know until we try; and I'm willing to try. I have always looked up to you and your accomplishments. I would be quite thankful to also be a part of such feats in even the most miniscule of ways.'

'Hahah…' Angela laughed melancholically. 'You're too pure. What did I do to deserve such perfection? I must be dreaming.'

'You have, quite literally, saved thousands, Angela. You are due for far more than anything I could ever provide.'

'Stop it.' Angela shivered, and then lifted a brow, tapping her cheek. 'But I don't know. Would you be willing to massage my feet as well?'

'Yours and only yours.' Fareeha admitted.

'Truly?'

'Truly.'

Angela huffed, unbuckling her seatbelt and hastily going in behind Fareeha, wrapping her arms around her collar and squeezing tight.

'That's a little dangerous still.' The younger woman attempted, but Angela could see the goosebumps prickling over her dark skin.

'We've been stabilized for some time now, Ms. Amari.'

'…I know. But my hands are safer being stationary here.'

'Mmm.' Angela moved her mouth to Fareeha's ear, shifting some black hair so her lips could graze it as she talked. 'Then I suppose I get to have a little fun.' And she nibbled on the younger woman's lobe, causing Fareeha to gasp unexpectantly.

* * *

'This…isn't Oasis.' Angela stepped out of the aircraft, and once Fareeha did the same, the vehicle disappeared, it's cloaking device activated by the taller woman for safekeeping. Despite not knowing precisely where they were, Angela felt a sense of nostalgia, looking to Fareeha with restrained hope.

'Where are we, Ms. Amari?'

'You don't know yet?' Fareeha's jaw shifted a bit.

'I have an inkling, but if I am correct then…I am not certain what I should do with the potential feelings that will inevitably develop from such unexpected consideration.'

'Come with me.' Fareeha extended a hand, and Angela took it, a swelling forming in her chest.

The two women travelled in mostly silence, a knot preventing Angela from talking, and a sense of dedicated purpose driving Fareeha forward. She checked her phone a number of times, perhaps for directions, but once they entered a rather decrepit part of Baghdad, homeless individuals on the streets scurrying at the sight of what could be danger, Angela knew. She knew, and as she had stated, the emotions were almost too overwhelming to contain.

She looked to Fareeha's profile, her eyes fading in and out of focus. Angela had given so much of herself for others for so long that guilt fed into her anytime someone sacrificed something for her. It didn't feel right. _She_ was the one that ensured others' wellbeing. She was always put last. She was demanded to perform daily. She was pulled from every direction.

But Fareeha didn't pull. She didn't demand. She didn't expect anything. She simply wanted to care for Angela and show it in any way possible. There were no ulterior motives. No preconceptions. No selfish desires. She wanted _nothing_ in return save for a mutual sense of affection.

At this point, Angela wasn't sure she could give back what she felt.

Fareeha escorted Angela into the building that had been used as the doctor's latest hospital in yet another country ravaged and left behind by the original Omnic Crisis. Blood stained the walls and floor, and the corpses of her patients hadn't been touched or cared for in any way. It was heartbreaking. It tore into Angela's chest and ripped at her soul. She covered her mouth and the tears began.

'You…never got to say goodbye, Angela. It's always weighed on my mind.'

'Fareeha…' Angela whimpered, completely exposed and terrified that another person was seeing her like this.

'I'm going to bury them. There was a shovel in the closet, wasn't there?'

'Y-yes…'

'Good.'

Fareeha went to work, procuring what she needed and immediately going to the back where she and Angela had almost been killed and captured. The clanging of the metal instrument rang in Angela's ears alongside another bell that made it almost impossible to hear. She floated through the hospital, viewing the degrading bodies and faces of people she had failed to save. It was almost impossible to see in minutes, constant wiping at her eyes doing nothing.

Sara. Fadhil. Mohammed. Noora. So many more. So many she had spent so many hours with.

She could hear sobbing amidst the ringing, and Angela knew it was her own. She was pulling bodies through the hospital, her muscles aching and her mouth hurting from attempts to withhold the incessant crying.

'I can do that, Angela.' Fareeha wiped sweat from her brow, her skin gleaming in the intense sun. She was drenched, and she was the most beautiful person Angela had ever seen in her entire life.

'No. Please. Let me.' Angela managed.

Fareeha didn't argue. She went back to work, grunting louder and louder, her own muscles rippling and straining at the sudden demands placed upon them.

When a couple of hours settled, the graves were dug, and the bodies placed within them. Angela said her goodbyes, sniffing all the while but finding some dignity again. Fareeha's arm reached and rested on her shoulder, and Angela shuffled in as close as possible.

'I-I'm very sweaty…' Fareeha claimed, explaining why she so tentatively touched the doctor.

'I don't care, Fareeha.' Angela uttered quietly.

She was so respectful. So honest. So kind. So strong. So committed. So mature. So innocent. Angela closed her eyes and breathed shakily. The experience was otherworldly. She was floating through it all, anguish and discovery of a very new emotion tugging her along. It was a moment that lasted eons yet was also a blink in her life she would remember forever and ever.

Another blink and they were back at the aircraft, Fareeha revealing their plane once more and opening the doors for Angela.

The doctor sighed, unable to speak. She could only stare at the other woman, her black hair sticky and knotted, her shirt utterly soaked, and even her pants showing signs of sweat seeping through. It was undeniable. Fareeha tried to smile, clearly unsure if it was inappropriate, and Angela smiled back, so sincere and full her cheeks hurt.

Ah. So, this was "love".


	37. XXXVII: Tracer

Tracer

'Oh, man.' Lena looked at her hand, practically stumbling through the Overwatch base to her own quarters. 'Ohmanohmanohmanohman!' She sighed, entering her room and flopping onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

'Get yourself together, girl. Seriously. This is not what you were looking for. Bloody hell it's _not_ the reason I helped her, but…'

Lena and Widow had spent a few hours together after the slight amount of drama involving Lena's life being threatened for but a moment. Just another day with one of Talon's best. But after Lena had brought the other woman a snack and sat down with her, they actually talked. It was somewhat one-sided, as usual, but Widow was obviously a touch more receptive to conversing with Lena, her small replies and sometimes curt reactions to be expected. They mostly discussed Angela and all the who, what, when, how, and whys of her mission, but it was something, and "something" was better than "nothing".

When Lena finally departed, she could let out the anxiety that had plagued her so suddenly around the slightly older woman. Truthfully, it was no secret Lena found Widow attractive; _anyone_ would. The rub emerged now that Amelie was beginning to show herself, and Amelie was the physical self's persona; the real persona. It wouldn't have been a problem if she was simply unlikeable, but Amelie was the exact sort of personality Lena found herself always interested in.

Which was the problem.

Paired with Widow's painfully soft and smooth skin, the texture still imbedded in Lena's mind, Lena knew a crush had developed. There was no doubt about it. Lena could see Angela's smug face already.

"I told you so." She would say with a superior shrug.

'Ugh!' Lena turned, shoving her face into her pillow. 'So messed up! So, so, so wrong! What about…?' She peeked through the fluffy material currently obstructing her mission partially and touched her phone, scrolling about her contacts and lingering on the "E" section with a very special name highlighted.

'God. I can't. I shouldn't. But…I'm a touch lonely, Em. It's no excuse; I know.' Lena shot up, sitting cross-legged on her bed. 'Right. Let's think about this a little, kay? How would _I_ feel if I found out Emily started dating someone else right this second?'

Lena imagined it. Emily walking through a park while holding another man or woman's hand. They were laughing, confined to their own little romantic world.

'Oi.' Lena grunted. 'Doesn't feel so good.' She shook her head. 'But knowing she's happy…isn't so bad either. I mean, we broke it off. It's done. Am I okay with that? Kinda. Do I miss her? Hell, yes. Still, it wouldn't be fair to expect her to wait for me. That's the whole point, innit?'

She flipped back onto her bed, rubbing her moistened eyes.

'I'm bein' an idiot. As if she'd ever be interested in me to begin with. One mention of fooling around with another girl and I get that bloody sexy death stare of hers. No point killing myself over something that isn't happening anyway.'

Lena thought about Widow, especially when she looked so vulnerable and frightened once returned from the training facility. She could make that kind of face, too, huh?

'Oh, man. She's so beautiful. Can I just leave her alone? I gotta. For her healing and everything, it wouldn't be fair to make things more complicated. There. Done. That's your answer, you dumb, dumb girl.'

Lena paused, touching her lips with her fingers and imagining what it would be like to kiss someone like Widowmaker. Or, better yet, someone like Amelie Lacroix.

"Er…Glad you have your answer there, Lena."

Winston's voice made Lena almost topple out of bed, and she was forced to gather herself, scrambling about the ground before grabbing at her bed and leaning on it with her elbows.

'Um…Not okay, Winston!'

"I…uh…dinged and everything, but you were really in your own little world."

'God…' Lena groaned. 'Seriously? You heard that? All of it?'

"I can pretend I didn't."

'Ugh…!'

A beat, and Lena finally had the courage to speak up again, the low hum of Athena's overhead speaker revealing Winston was still waiting.

'Okay. What is it?'

"Lucio wants to speak with you. He's currently in the entertainment hall. Had to deal with a whole bunch of agents wanting his autograph. Nice guy!"

'Oh! Sweet! I've been wanting to talk to him! Have to apologize for the craziness that happened during the mission, you know?'

"Hah! I'm sure he'll be fine. He seems very down to earth considering how popular he is. I might even give his music a try!"

'You should! It's really great!'

"Well…that's pretty much it, then. I'll chat with you later. Keep me posted regarding Widowmaker. Er…her wellbeing, that is. Whatever you do with her in private…um…so long as it's consensual, I suppose."

'Ah! Okay! Bye-bye! Athena, cut the connection!'

"Really. It's fi – "

"Affirmative."

And another "ding" signified the call being over.

At least it had only been Winston. He and Lena were so close she didn't mind the big oaf hearing her ridiculous self-banter. Lena wasn't always secretive regarding her love life either, but something about Widow made her cautious and nervous. Perhaps it was because she felt so protective of the other woman. Even now, she wondered how she was doing and if she was going to be able to sleep through the night alright. It couldn't have been comfortable having those binds locking her down, but with her deadly potential, it was necessary; even Widow acknowledged as much.

Lena jumped to her feet and quickly fixed her hair so it looked messy the way she liked it. She could consider her stance in relation to Widow later, but for now, she was kind of excited to meet something of a celebrity. It would be a good distraction, at the very least.

* * *

When Lena entered the entertainment hall, it was much busier than usual for how late it was in the day. It was something of Gibraltar's onsite bar, really, but it included pool tables, enormous televisions, a karaoke machine, and even waitresses and busboys to keep things rolling smoothly.

It wasn't hard to spot Lucio, because he was surrounded by a number of bodyguards, a few female Overwatch agents simply downright smitten with the fact they were having a conversation with the man. He acted very natural and casual, however, and Lena was ready to believe exactly what Winston had said about him. She always had the impression he was a pretty decent guy to begin with, so it wasn't such a farfetched notion.

Lena approached the D.J., and as soon as his big brown eyes spotted her, he waved, dismissing the other agents politely to bring Lena into his inner circle, waving with a charming but grounded smile.

' _The_ Tracer! Wow! I've seen some videos of you in action and girl, you can really move!'

This was a reversal Lena wasn't prepared for. She instantly blushed, smacking at the air.

'Aw! Thanks, Luv! Definitely wasn't expecting that kinda greeting!'

'Are you kidding me? You're a legend! Anybody with as much passion as you when it comes to saving others is a true hero in my books.' He paused, giggling a little to himself. 'Can you say it? Your catchphrase?'

Lena blinked, still thrown by how interested Lucio was in _her_.

'Um…Cheers, Luv, the cavalry's here!'

'Whoo! Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about! Hahah!'

Even Lucio's bodyguards clapped a bit, some of the other Overwatch agents cheering in response.

'Shucks…I just do what I can to help. Heheh…'

'That's just it though, isn't it? That's what we gotta do! You came to my concert in Numbani, right? You fought that monster of a dude in the airport, right? Saw some footage of that insanity, too! Girl, you are the walking manifestation of bravery and heroism. You _inspired_ me to join the fight! If my music and spirit can help Overwatch take down the evil in this world, well, you bet I'm gonna jump at the chance to be here! I'm not the best fighter, believe me, but I know the power of morale and the beat. I'm pretty sure I can boost you guys here and there!'

'That would be amazing, Lucio! Really! It's an honour to have you here!'

'Honour's all mine. You know it is! I'm so pumped to throw some tunes down before the next major mission. I can even go on site to the fight if needed. I got a sweet rig that lets me get crazy mobile. Might even give _you_ a run for your money! Hahah!'

'Really? I'd totally race you!'

'Oh, you're on!'

They both laughed, and Lena decided that she really liked this guy. No wonder he was so popular. The fame hadn't gotten to him at all. Winston was right as well; apologizing about what happened in Numbani seemed silly now. Lucio would likely question what Lena could possibly be apologizing for considering everything that happened was completely out of her power.

However, one thing Lucio said struck a chord with Lena, and although she told herself to stop thinking about a certain assassin, she supposed it was not such an easy task after all.

'You said something about your music having the power to boost morale and stuff, right?'

'It's the craziest thing! Okay. Hear me out. I mean, music's always been a powerful part of the art world, right? It can totally and completely change someone's mood like that!' Lucio snapped, everything he did theatrical and somehow alive. He was a joy to just watch as he talked.

'That's true 'nuff. I always get grooving to some tunes before a fight if I can.'

'Exactly! But listen to this: _my_ music can actually pump others up so much they can sometimes move faster or even make them forget about pain both physically and mentally. It's slow and gradual, but if you're nearby, and I'm bringing it, you better believe it can work some insane magic!'

'Gotcha…That _is_ pretty amazing.'

'Right?'

That clinched it. But could Lena ask such a favour of Lucio upon just meeting him? If she had more time, she'd wait, but she could be pulled onto the field at any moment, and Widow was still so obviously struggling with her painful transition. When Lena played music during the shooting contest, she could see the way Widow's body reacted to the tune. Boy, could she ever. What if Lucio was right, and _his_ music had an even more positive of an influence? It was certainly worth a try, wasn't it?

'Any way I could get a peek of your beats in action? I have someone that could really use some music therapy, you know?'

Lucio crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side.

'Yeah? You sound a little skeptical.'

'Hahah. Yeah, well, she's a pretty special case. Not sure if even you can help this one.'

'Snap. Can't let that doubt slide. I got some time, and if I can help Tracer of Overwatch out then you know I'll break it down as best I can.'

Lena could only hope his confidence wasn't misplaced, because as good as Lucio was, Widow was so broken and hurt she wasn't sure what to do anymore. Maybe this was exactly what she needed, or maybe it would set her off again. Either way, Lena decided it was worth the risk.

* * *

'Heya!' Lena waved to Widow, who was watching her projected television again. She took a peek at the content, and before the other woman snapped it off, she saw yet another cheesy soap opera had been playing.

'What are you doing here?' Widow snapped.

'You actually like those shows, don't you?'

'What I like and don't like is none of your concern.'

'Uh-oh. Is someone embarrassed?'

'Hardly. Now, why are you bothering me this time? I thought I would finally have some peace for the remainder of the evening.'

'Aw. Don't be like that. We both know you totally missed me.'

' _Never_.'

'I'll take that as a "yep"!' Lena maintained her composure, but she couldn't ignore the small ache in her chest from Widow's earnest rejection of the Overwatch agent's presence. They _had_ had that moment together, right? Lena's hand was still tingling, so, she knew it to be true. But Widow was pretending as though their obvious connection in the scene of vulnerability never happened. Lena knew she shouldn't care, but it did bother her somewhat annoyingly.

'Take it as you will.'

Lena giggled, leaping to Widow's side and looking up at her playfully.

'So, I got this crazy date idea. You feel like coming?'

'Without the details my only answer shall be "no".'

'Really? You'd rather just lay here watching old drama reruns?'

'…Perhaps.'

'It'll be fu~un!'

'Our definitions of the very concept surely differ.'

Lena unlatched the binds that held Widow in place and popped back up, holding out a hand.

'Trust me; I think you'll like it.'

'Does it involve a gun?'

'Not this time. Heheh!'

Widow rolled her eyes and sighed, but she arose from her bed all the same, her newest set of clothes Lena brought her complimenting her perfect form. Perhaps anything would look good on someone of this calibre. Lena knew she herself couldn't stop staring when the opportunities presented themselves. The leggings and somewhat loose shirt did wonders for the imagination, and Lena wanted to slap her face away from gawking.

'It's not a "date", understand? Get that ridiculous concept out of your head.'

'Fine. Fine. Fair enough, Luv.'

'And if I am not impressed with your proposition for a "good time" I will be asked to return here post haste.'

'Bloody hell. Demanding for a prisoner.' Lena laughed.

'Heh. You're the one compensating me at every turn, little girl.'

'True enough. But you're worth it.'

'I've given you no reason to believe as much.'

'So, you _did_ forget about our little moment together, like, a few hours ago?'

Widow finally faltered, turning her face away and perhaps blushing ever so slightly.

'It was merely a fit of insanity. Do not read into it further.'

Lena swallowed, shuffling her conflicting emotions to the side and focussing on what she had approached Widow for.

'Gotcha. Wouldn't dream of it.'

'Good.'

The Overwatch agent breathed out slowly, a small shake escaping her air circulation.

'Anyhow! Let's go, my lady! Right this way!'

'So be it…'

And they were moving through the base anew. It was later, the lighting of various corridors and halls remaining dim. Rain had continued to be pouring since the day Angela left, and Lena had to admit it was a gloomy turn of weather. Pitter pattering drops were prevalent throughout the entirety of the trip, and Lena knew she'd have to yell to get anything across to her current companion.

'Think we'll ever have a dry day again?' She asked, ensuring Widow was in her peripheral at all times.

'I don't mind the rain. I don't even feel the cold.'

'Oi! Convenient!'

'Slightly.'

'Why don't you mind the rain though?'

'Mm. I wonder…'

As mysterious as ever. It drove Lena wild. Fortunately, before she ran the risk of saying anything too foolish, Lena and Widow made it to their destination, which was a room once reserved for interrogations and the like. It was abnormally large, for whatever reason, but mostly remained vacant since Overwatch's revival, making it something of a little hall with hardly any equipment within.

'What on earth?' Widow sneered, finally turning to Lena and raising a brow. 'Whatever are you thinking?'

'Just wait.' Lena tapped at her phone a couple of times, escorting Widow into the little hall with a singular spotlight centered on the open floor. 'I did a little digging, and I found some stuff that might make this super helpful or crazy bad. Whatever happens though, just know I'm here, okay?'

'I…do not like this.' Widow groaned.

'Don't worry. It's safe. So…'

A tune began, and Lena beamed. Lucio was good. He already got his sound system set up, it would seem. The light in the middle of the floor split into five smaller beams, circulating the space alongside the classical, slow track that Lucio was obviously adding just a touch of flair to.

' _My God…_ ' Widow uttered.

'You…danced to this, right? One of your biggest shows had this track in it, if I did anything right here.'

'You…!' Widow's lip twitched.

'It's called "music therapy" or something. When I saw how much you liked a good tune, I kinda asked Lucio to put something together real quick. Good thing he's a fan, because I don't know if he'd do all this for just anybody.'

Widow closed her eyes, and moved onto the middle of the floor, sitting down cross-legged and putting her face to her ankles. She suddenly became so small, and Lena waited to see what she would do.

"So far so good." Lena messaged Lucio, and he replied with an enormous "thumbs up" sticker.

The music stopped suddenly, and Lena glanced fervently around, wondering if Lucio had been cut off somehow, but then a horn sounded, and the track started up anew, this time with even more instruments and a touch of Lucio's own additions filling it with incredible life. Widow rose up onto her toes, her form and movement instantly mesmerizing. It was as though muscle memory had taken her over, her actions perfectly in sync with the track being played. She told a tragic story with her dance, Widow's face more animated than ever before, although still slightly restrained. Nonetheless, Lena couldn't take her eyes off her, and finally felt as though she could stare. Widow was performing for an audience. She was a professional dancer reborn. Thousands had paid a premium price to see her, and Lena could easily understand why. Her beauty was unparalleled already, but the way she commanded her body, using every limb available to her in precise and difficult poses, flowing from one statement to another, was otherworldly.

Minutes went by, yet they could be exchanged for seconds in Lena's mind. She was emotionally affected, goosebumps pervading her neck and face. How could one person be so utterly alluring in every possible way?

'Completely daft…' Lena gasped.

The song reached its climax, and Widow elevated herself up on one toe, lifting her other leg high above her head and stretching her neck back, exposing herself seductively and practically giving Lena permission to observe her hungrily.

With the downward spiral of the finale, Widow collapsed to the floor, sprawled about as if crippled for life. Lena went to her immediately, getting to her hands and knees and approaching just close enough to see the other woman's bloodshot eyes and quivering mouth.

'He approached me after this number. It was the end of the first act. An intermission took place, and he received special permission to see me.'

'You mean…Gerard?' Lena managed through a tight throat.

'Gerard…' Widow repeated affectionately. 'Yes. A bold man. Bold, but so severely humble. He had me on the same pedestal as many a fan, but something about him delivered insurmountable respect and consideration. I was accustomed to being asked out on dates by similarly bold individuals, but something about his demeanor caught me off guard, and I accepted his sincere invitation to dinner.'

'I know _of_ him, but didn't talk to him myself ever. He did a lot for the organization, I think.'

'He worked quite frequently…' Widow confirmed half-heartedly.

'Right.' Lena agreed, and kept feeling less and less encouraged to act on any semblance of feeling she had for this woman. She had no hope. She knew this. So, if she knew as much, why did it still hurt like nothing else?

Another song started up, this one much softer and romantic sounding. The strings and instruments of mystery lulled Lena into a daze, wishing she had gotten the chance to see Widow perform on stage before any of this nonsense with Talon occurred.

'Hmph. A duet. Gerard ever attempted to remain stoic when reviewing such dances, but an air of jealousy frequently exposed him when he saw another man touch me in any fashion once our relationship became official.'

'Oh, I bet. Ballet is pretty sensual, innit?'

'Is it?' Widow floated upward again, and she was a completely different woman now, a new story taking place as she circled Lena, the Overwatch agent stuck in the middle of the floor, unsure of whether or not she should make her exit or keep the best seat in the house.

Unexpectedly, but to the young woman's delight, Widow flew in to her, taking Lena by the waist and stroking her sides before peeling away, locking her eyes on her and forcing her soul to remain resilient, the urge to melt on the spot almost as tempting as the form manipulating the space it found itself encased in.

Was Widow…or perhaps even Amelie…dancing _with_ Lena?

The music swooped up and down, rising and falling, with Widow displaying her skill for Lena to see, stepping in close and lifting Lena up temporarily, swinging her to the side and bringing her back down, feeling her from her shins all the way up to her collar.

'B-bloody hell…' Lena whispered, her face suddenly so close to Widow's she could feel her breath.

'Such a simple girl.' Widow taunted, taking hold of Lena's face with an abrupt amount of force. 'Are you aroused by something so quaint? I've barely begun.'

'You're…pretty incredible.' Lena admitted, forcing herself not to quiver in the older woman's grasp.

'Hmph. This "date" has proven much more fulfilling than anticipated. Music therapy, you say? Hm. Perhaps this is worth exploring further.' Widow sighed deeply, locking eyes with Lena, her cybernetic enhancements making her gaze inhuman and slightly unsettling. 'It's…been quite some time since I've "felt" so alive. I feel as though…perhaps…I've reconnected with a piece of myself I thought lost. This is, of course, because of you.'

'Just tryin' to help, Luv. It's like I've said since the beginning.'

Widow tugged at Lena's hair, and although it was quite rough, it wasn't a horrible sensation either, oddly enough.

'Good girls deserve rewards, I suppose.' Widow went on in a deep and sultry voice, her French accent prominent and overly sexual. 'And you've impressed me today, _my dear_.'

Lena's vision blurred for a split second as her heart leapt into her throat. Widow's mouth parted just enough, and the world slowed to a near halt as she closed her eyes and held Lena in place, closing the gap between the two women's faces at glacier speed through the time-bender's view.

Was this even happening? It had felt like such an impossibility, and yet…!

Widow paused, blinking rapidly and snapping her head up, as if a snake suddenly on high alert.

'Stop the music.'

'What? Stop the – ?'

' _Stop it, now!_ '

Lena sent Lucio a quick message, and immediately the gorgeous tune was cut.

'What's wrong, Luv?'

'I…I'm not completely certain. However, I…I received a disturbing message after you left, and perhaps I'm being paranoid, but…'

Why was she mentioning this now? A message? From who? Who could possibly connect to Widow in the Overwatch base?

Lena's eyes widened, and she checked her phone again, a message from Sombra popping up as she did so.

"Party's about to start. Better get ready. You have, like, two minutes. Good luck, "Luv"!"

'Oh, God…! Are you serious?' Lena attempted to process the text as quickly as possible, but when Widow peered over her shoulder, she shook her head, grinning a little.

'I require my gun.' She muttered dangerously.

'I-I'm not sure I can do that, Luv.'

'I won't go back, little girl. Congratulations. You've convinced me to fight for this pathetic life.'


	38. XXXVIII: Pharah

Pharah

Angela was very quiet on the trip to the hotel in Oasis. Fareeha could only assume the doctor needed time to come to terms with what they had just done. She had cried…a lot. It was physically painful for Fareeha to witness. She held her own sympathetic tears back for the sake of Angela, but seeing the woman she cared so fiercely for hurt was more unbearable than she could have anticipated. Fareeha wanted to take the pain away, and she felt guilty for exposing Angela to such a difficult scene. She decided giving the woman space was what the older girl would likely desire. Thus, until approximately twenty minutes prior to being flagged to land, Angela gazed out the window of their aircraft, small sniffs coming from her general direction at irregular intervals without a word among them.

'Thank-you…' Angela spoke quietly, almost meekly. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of her.

'You're welcome.' Fareeha answered automatically.

'Nobody…has ever gone to such lengths for me before.' Angela went on, and Fareeha squinted as she responded.

'It was nothing. My only concern was how difficult it would be on you.'

'Hah. Of course. For you, the extreme physical labour and time it took to venture into such a remote part of the country was inconsequential. You only saw the fact it would give me peace of mind and some semblance of redemption, correct?'

'More than less.'

'Fareeha…' Angela gasped.

'A-are you unwell?'

'Perhaps. My chest aches terribly, and for once in my life I cannot fathom the emotions swirling through my very soul.'

'Hm. It seems odd to visit a doctor, considering your capabilities, but we could always – '

'Hahah!' Angela laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. 'Truly? I am beginning to fear I'm unworthy of you, Fareeha.'

Fareeha visibly shook her head, confusion overrunning her.

' _You_ unworthy of _me_? I'm sorry; is that a joke?'

'Hardly. For once, I am not teasing you, Fareeha. You…truly are special…'

'You give me too much credit. I only did what anyone should do in such circumstances.'

Angela went quiet again after that. She avoided Fareeha's eyes as well, which was rather disturbing. The two women were guided into a small airport, and the hustle and bustle of unloading their luggage and storing their aircraft kept them both busy enough for some time. The ride to the complimentary hotel was approximately forty-five minutes away, and it gave Fareeha time to take in the newer city known as Oasis. It was a leap in technological achievement, from what she could tell. A soft, red hue painted the entirety of the landscape, but otherwise, it was a metropolis of a space, representing how far man had come following the Omnic Crisis. Fareeha couldn't say she particularly liked the atmosphere of it all – that is, the artificial feel to everything – but she recognized how progressive the city was, and wouldn't lift her nose to such advancement.

When the taxi dropped the two women off, Fareeha made sure to carry Angela's things again, refusing the bellboy at the utterly extravagant hotel his duty due to her desire to be the only one assisting Angela at this time. The older woman continued her silent treatment, however, and it was beginning to shift into worrisome territory. Once Fareeha and Angela were in their room, however, Fareehe decidedly took charge.

'Quite the place, isn't it?'

'Hm? Oh. Yes. Very much so…'

Fareeha glanced around, plopping her suitcase on one bed and Angela's on the other. The room was enormous; almost ridiculously so. Fareeha understood it was a luxury she should be grateful for, but she preferred the Ilios accommodations better. This space felt as though it was distancing Angela from Fareeha further, and she was beginning to panic a little. She hated how sensitive she was to Angela's moods; especially ones she couldn't wrap her head around properly.

'Er…Is that bed alright with you?'

'Of course. My thanks.'

Fareeha placed her finger to her bag's lock, beginning to unpack the few things she needed simply to keep busy. Angela departed for the washroom, closing the door and turning on the fan. Was she crying again? Why would she hide from Fareeha now? If she was still upset, Fareeha only wanted to know so she could proceed to comfort or understand the distance needed. Not knowing was simply torture.

Had she gone wrong somewhere? But where? Angela explicitly mentioned that she was appreciative of Fareeha's efforts. Indeed, she was praising her rather highly, so, why the cold shoulder? Why the oddly short, distant answers to anything Fareeha said?

'I don't know…' Fareeha moved her suitcase gingerly to the side of "her" bed, and checked her phone, uninterested in the illuminating way it easily shrunk the world with but the right glanced upon multiple websites. She stared at nothing, the room shrinking and expanding as she tried to focus on anything but what Angela's melancholic attitude could mean.

She had just mourned. She would need time to recover. Seeing such tragedy again would put anyone out of sorts. Fareeha barely knew the lost patients and she could feel a knot in her stomach. Surely, that was it. There was nothing to fret over. They had a night to enjoy before the convention. Exploring the city and checking out what Oasis had for entertainment with Angela sounded extremely pleasant…so long as the good doctor was up for it. They were…girlfriends, weren't they? Officially a couple, correct?

For some reason, that didn't sound right to Fareeha.

'This is Angela Ziegler…my girlfriend.' Fareeha flinched back from uttering the statement. Seemed a little odd. What was wrong with the claim though? 'This is Angela Ziegler…my lover?'

But they _were_ together, weren't they? They were certainly acting like it back at Gibraltar. Did it really matter if they didn't make a big scene of the relationship? Fareeha thought for sure it wouldn't, but at the same time, perhaps it irked her more than anticipated not being able to openly admit the closeness between the two women.

Fareeha bit at her lip, texting a small message to Brigette.

"What if I said I was in love with Angela Ziegler?"

She hit "send" and a wave of anxiety passed through her veins. What on earth was she doing? How easily she became undone in the face of this bizarre scenario she had somehow embraced and still relished.

Her phone beeped, and the response came so quickly Fareeha wondered if it was someone else randomly messaging her.

"I'd say the line is way over there. Hahah!"

A beat.

"Is that a fact though?"

Fareeha didn't know how to answer, and was fortunately relieved of the pressure when Angela exited the washroom at last, her hair pulled out of its signature ponytail and her entire appearance as enrapturing as ever.

'Are you okay, Angela? Can I get you anything?' Fareeha shifted on her bed, one leg hanging over the side but allowing enough space for the other woman to sit if she so desired.

Angela furtively looked to and fro, eyeing various spots in the room as she somewhat sauntered over to Fareeha, a strangeness in the way she moved, as if she was nervous but anxiously purposeful at once. Fareeha breathed out slowly. Was this where the doctor finally broke things off, realizing how bizarre it perhaps was to fall for Fareeha in even the smallest way? She just couldn't read the older woman, and never before had Fareeha wished she was better at such social skills.

'Not at all…' Angela finally giggled, and then met Fareeha's eyes after what felt like so long. The look sent a chill up the Egyptian's spine, and a sudden lust clashed into her chest. Angela grinned slyly, biting at her lower lip and blushing terribly as she closed the space between herself and Fareeha, sitting on her lap and wrapping her legs suddenly around the younger woman. Her slender fingers touched the back of Fareeha's neck, and she stroked her skin, the sensation glorious.

'Fareeha…' Angela sighed, and Fareeha needn't be told twice. She kissed Angela passionately, squeezing her body against her own and tasting the other woman immediately, the embrace somehow even more raw and exposed than before. Angela gripped Fareeha almost desperately, her strength evident and fear of perhaps losing her successfully transferring.

'Is everything alright, Angela?' Fareeha whispered, noting the fervent way Angela was touching her.

'I just…' Angela uttered. 'I want to be with you…'

'I'm right here.' Fareeha felt it appropriate to say.

'I wish to feel you. All of you.'

'All of…?' Fareeha blinked, that same desire from before beginning to swell at the mere thought.

Angela gave Fareeha another peck, but then touched her chest, pushing her back so the younger woman was lying upon the bed. Angela helped her lay completely flat by moving her legs onto the mattress as well, and then shifted her own body so that she was straddling Fareeha's waist with her groin pressed against her "bodyguard's" stomach. Angela then reached down to the rim of her sweater, crossing her arms over one another, and pulled the material up and over her head, tossing the shirt to the side. She unclipped her bra next, shuffling it away as well in another instant.

Fareeha could only stare, hesitating to allow her hands to caress the lovely body before her, the way Angela's chest naturally curved visually stimulating.

'Heh. You really do find me attractive, don't you?' Angela's face reddened further. 'Your eyes…truly lit up. That's one way to give a lady confidence, I suppose.'

'How many times do I need to repeat myself, Angela? I restrain the urge to simply take in your beauty on an overly frequent basis. I…still have trouble fathoming this very moment as my own.'

'Too kind…' Angela whimpered. 'Allow me to show just how much I…appreciate you as well.'

Fareeha grinned, wondering what that exact comment meant. Angela began stroking Fareeha's cheeks, tickling her skin and moving her hands to the woman's collar, to her bare arms, to her sides, over her hips and under her shirt, lifting the material up and massaging Fareeha all the while.

'Mmm…' Fareeha closed her eyes. She reached forward and managed a small handful of Angela's firm body, but the other woman seized her wrists, lowering her arms to her sides again.

'Might I request a promise?' Angela's voice sang.

'Er…Yes?'

'Let me lead this. Simply enjoy it, Fareeha.'

'What?'

'I know it will be a challenge, since you prefer to give than receive at all times, but I am asking you to accept what I am willing to provide. Can you do that for me, Ms. Amari?'

It was true. Even now, Fareeha wished to reverse the positions. _She_ wanted to make Angela feel good. _She_ wanted to watch the other woman submit under her touch. Revelling in someone else's efforts with the sole purpose of bringing her pleasure was going to be difficult, but because Angela was being so demanding, there was only one answer available.

'…I'll try.'

'Promise me. I will be displeased if you break this promise.'

Fareeha swallowed, relaxing her form.

'You have my word.'

Angela nodded after a moment, seeming apprehensive despite her bold requests.

'Then I shall do my very best based on the knowledge I have.' And Angela began, leaning down and starting with Fareeha's neck, kissing a trail to her lips and opening her mouth wider with the other woman's. Her hands pulled at Fareeha's shirt until it was bunched up over her breasts, and in another swift movement, Angela undid her bra, removing it and the troublesome material so that both girls were naked from the waist up. She kneaded Fareeha's right breast with one free hand, and kissed her other affectionately, encircling the tip with her tongue and alternating between that and tender sucks.

'A-ah…!' Fareeha couldn't hold it in. She didn't want to be overly vocal, but her entire body was abuzz, and she stroked Angela's hair, pushing her fingers through the blonde locks and gritting her teeth with joy. She could feel the other woman's chest grazing her stomach, and the way her backside was curved high into the air as she serviced Fareeha was just more stimulation the younger girl could barely handle. Her breaths were quickening, and her heart sped up, hammering against her prickling skin. It was all just too much. Never before had a man been so focussed on _her_ enjoyment of the interaction. The guilt was almost unbearable, but then Angela would touch her just the right way, or kiss around her naval, and Fareeha's toes curled into themselves, the mere fact Dr. Angela Ziegler was being so sexually aggressive with _her_ of all people another point of arousal.

'Now…I hope my research was worth it…' Angela whispered, and before Fareeha could ask what she meant, the woman was unbuttoning Fareeha's jeans, the zipper pulled down and the bottom half of the younger girl's cover yanked to her knees.

'W-wait…!' Fareeha almost sat up, but it was as if Angela knew she would resist at this point, and her hand was already forcing her back down.

'You promised, Fareeha.'

'B-but…I haven't showered…A-and I'm caked in sweat…!'

'Honestly, it's somewhat part of the charm.' Angela winked, and Fareeha wanted to counter, but the doctor's naturally adept fingers began massaging between her legs, teasing the thin, black material that covered the most sensitive part of Fareeha's body. She twitched in response, but her natural instincts knew what they wanted, as they had when Angela and she first began attempting to make love before. Fareeha's hips rocked forward, and she bit at her hand, scrunching her eyes shut and sensing the way her innards swirled with a fluid of longing and desire.

'Ngh…!' She groaned.

Fareeha's first time had hurt. It hurt an incredible amount. It was painful until the very end, after barely five minutes had passed and her partner was pulling plastic off himself full of pastel-white liquid. He claimed it was great, and lit a cigarette quickly thereafter, wishing aloud all women stayed as tight as Fareeha was. She never spoke to him again. She learned sometime after that if a woman wasn't properly aroused during intercourse, the insertion of _anything_ was bound to be uncomfortable, especially something with the elasticity of another human's skin.

In this moment with Angela, however, Fareeha's black underwear was so damp she thought she had wet herself accidently. When she realized she hadn't, she fully understood the difference between her first sexual experience and this one. They were world's apart.

'It would appear we have no choice, my dear.' Angela said in a hushed tone, and Fareeha gasped, covering her face as her body was completely exposed, the soaked material stripped down off her ankles alongside her stressed jeans. Was she embarrassed? Of course. But was she also in a state of hunger and unparalleled excitement? Even more so.

'My! How beautiful!' Angela giggled.

'Don't…' Fareeha could hardly speak clearly. Her mind was full of fog, and her eyes were lulled into delirium.

'I didn't expect you to be one to stay so delightfully groomed. I suppose with your workouts and such it would be much more comfortable.'

'You're…teasing me…' Fareeha moaned.

'Not quite. But now I am.'

' _Ah…! A-ah…! Ngh…!_ ' Fareeha's whole body was shocked with electricity, Angela's soft, warm tongue pressing against her and circumnavigating around while one hand massaged above her mouth, the absurdly receptive little piece of Fareeha making her twitch over and over, her mouth agape and loud groans escaping her lips constantly now.

Where had Angela learned of such a thing? Was this normal? How many men had practically demanded Fareeha do something similar to them? Was that the turning point for her? The revulsion was incomparable, but this…this was too glorious. Glorious and utterly awkward, yet Fareeha's state of mind could only accept it all so willingly.

Then, when the younger woman thought it couldn't get any better, Angela's tongue slid inside her, and she almost screamed, the doctor's fingers joining the efforts and practically forcing Fareeha's body into the air she was so unbalanced by the onslaught of sensations. Her outcries only seemed to encourage Angela, and the older girl's confidence grew alongside the rapturous state Fareeha found herself in.

'God…Angela…Oh…O-oh…!'

This was why some individuals were so obsessed with sex. It made much more sense now. Fareeha's eyes were rolling back into her head, and the tingling in her stomach moved into her groin, little jolts circulating alongside her pelvis into her womanhood, the pulsating burning and aching. It was all happening so quickly, and she didn't want it to end, but Angela was too skilled. Either that, or the simple fact it _was_ Angela herself was enough to put Fareeha nearly over the edge before they began.

'I'm…I-I'm…!' Fareeha wheezed, and her knees banged into one another, her hands pushing down on Angela's head as an eruption of buzzing pleasure pinched inside, convulsions making her flinch again and again, the feeling otherworldly, and the way Fareeha's voice shifted into a strange octave foreign to even her. Her vision went white, and she sighed loudly as the letdown occurred.

Angela lay atop her, in another moment, kissing her softly, the fact her mouth was still covered in various fluids somehow nearly enough to set Fareeha off all over again.

'How was that, Fareeha Amari?' Angela inquired cutely, teasing Fareeha's hair and pushing some loose strands away from her glistening face.

'I…have never…felt such things.' Fareeha couldn't get the words out. She was perfectly drained.

'Truly?' Angela looked perplexed. 'Despite having been with a man before?'

'Incomparable. The difference…in desire eclipses anything before.'

This appeared to paint a permanent smile on Angela, and she rested her head on Fareeha's bare chest, drawing little designs on her skin as she spoke again.

'What you did for me today, Ms. Amari, made me want to do this.'

'Really…?'

'Quite. Because it also made me realize something very important.'

'O-oh?' A tweak stabbed at Fareeha's brain, but the doctor read her perfectly, as always.

'It's nothing to be concerned about. However, I _do_ hesitate to tell you. It's a frightening claim, I'll have you aware; especially for me.'

Fareeha didn't have a clue, and that meant she wanted to know all the more. She got her shaky hands to rest on Angela's back, noticing the other woman had, at one point, removed her bottoms as well, only a small pair of lacy, white underwear hardly covering anything at all.

'Can you tell me?'

Angela turned so her chin was between Fareeha's breasts, and she touched her nose, smiling brilliantly but clearly hesitating. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and cocked her head slightly to the right.

' _I love you_.'

Fareeha didn't know enough German to make out the extent of the claim.

'Um…Pardon?'

'Fareeha Amari,' Angela met Fareeha's eyes with her brilliant blue ones, tears beginning to fill them. 'I'm in love with you. I love you. I truly, honestly do. You…are everything I could ever want in a partner, friend, and lover. It took thirty-seven years, but I can earnestly say, with no semblance of doubt in my mind, that it was inarguably worth every second of delay.'

'Angela…!' Fareeha blinked, touching the other girl's face. Was she allowed to have so much happiness in such a short amount of time? This woman, whom she had admired since she could fathom the concept, could look at her in such a way?

'Perhaps I am making the claim a touch prematurely in some eyes, but I care not. What I feel cannot be denied. It…terrifies me, but I won't allow that to hurt you again. I only wish to make you as happy as you make me, and thus, I could only think to start with this; a moment interrupted now fulfilled.'

'No.' Fareeha shook her head, pushing herself up and moving in behind Angela, extending her leg so she could feel Angela's back pressing in between her thighs. 'Not yet.'

'Fareeha…' Angela shuddered, and it was all Fareeha could do to stop herself from being too aggressive. She reached around and cupped Angela's breasts in her strong hands, her own chest against the woman's back. She kissed the doctor's ear and neck, moving to her collar, shoulder, and then back up again. Angela lifted her arms and held Fareeha's head, the movement stretching her body erotically, the tightness of her skin beneath Fareeha's touch incredible. Small gasps of excitement passed through Angela's lips, and Fareeha traced past her naval and into her underwear, the transition making her vision blur for a second as she felt Angela's moist, confined crevice.

'A-ah…! Gentle, Fareeha…'

It was a surprisingly tall order. This was Angela's first time, and that was now very apparent. This, of course, only made Fareeha's hunger grow. She angled Angela's face to hers, and kissed her deeply, recalling what made herself feel good during seldom, private sessions of self-pleasure. She caressed the other woman softly, paying special attention to the tight little bud that hardened beneath Fareeha's touch.

'Mmm…mm…Mm…!' Angela moaned, her mouth covered by Fareeha's, but her hips starting to react, rocking on the bed, pushing her backside into Fareeha's groin here and there, which only added to the experience further. She gripped Fareeha's head tightly, and finally, Fareeha _just_ managed to slip her index finger in. Angela broke away from the kiss then, her nails digging into Fareeha and little whimpers escaping her throat.

'T-that…isn't undesirable…is it?' She whispered almost comedically.

Fareeha kissed her again, but couldn't get over how constrained her hand felt. Angela's body was enveloping her, she was so tight, and it was hard to move without the fear of hurting the woman.

'It's okay…Please proceed…' Angela encouraged, and this helped. It enabled Fareeha to be bold. It gave her leave to fill Angela a little more when it was possible. It made the remainder of their lovemaking a beautiful moment Fareeha wanted to engrain in her mind forever. The way Angela's body rocked, craving more. The way her angelic voice soared. The way her pretty bottom backed into Fareeha's swollen wishes. The way she quivered and sighed. The way she grabbed hold of Fareeha's wrist, moans coming out in bursts, and her body clasping so hard over Fareeha's fingers she lost feeling in them for a moment.

It was all so perfect.

It was over too quickly.

Fareeha felt the weight of Angela's head on her arm as they lay in the other bed together, still naked, and still infatuated with one another. Angela's hands rested on Fareeha's chest, and she kissed her cheek regularly as she spoke.

'That was wonderful.' She said quite simply, obviously smiling. 'You were so charming and kind. I felt you in every act, and it only made the event ever the more lovely. I couldn't have asked for better for my first time, Fareeha.'

'It…seemed so natural for me, surprisingly. I was comfortable doing anything I could for you, and I easily understood what you wanted as we went along. Heheh. I enjoyed being with you very, very much.'

'Was _my_ service…acceptable?'

Fareeha laughed loudly, kissing Angela's head.

'I didn't last long, did I?'

'I am not sure.'

'Trust me; I don't think it's ever happened so quickly for me. Never with a man. Sometimes not even with myself.'

'Oh? You do such things, Fareeha?' Angela giggled.

'You don't?'

'When I was younger and as curious as ever, I suppose, but I can't recall since.'

'Unbelievable.' Fareeha sighed.

'The thought of you performing the act of masturbation is rather arousing, I must admit.'

'Angela! Do you have to be so blunt?'

'Hm? Is that the incorrect term?'

'Well, no, but still…'

'Ah! You are embarrassed. That seems reasonable, but it's only me.'

The implications sent a heartfelt buzz through Fareeha's body.

'True. Very true.'

There was a calming silence between the two women, the warmth of one another's body soothing, and the completed acts between them causing fatigue and the urge to rest within a gentle embrace. Fareeha's eyelids were weighing her down even then, and for a split second, she feared she would awake from this dream that she couldn't simply accept as her present reality.

'You never responded to me, by the by, Ms. Amari.'

'Hm?'

'I do not expect you to have the exact same feelings, but where you stand in relation to me would be nice to know.'

'Oh!' Fareeha couldn't believe she forgot to actually answer the doctor verbally. It was an emotion she had harboured for what seemed like forever, and saying it aloud just didn't cross her mind since she felt it was worn on her sleeve at all times. Still, Angela clearly needed some form of response, and Fareeha stroked her pretty blonde hair as she smiled wide, her cheeks hurting she was so full of unfiltered happiness.

'Angela, my princess, I am quite certain I've been in love since the moment I first laid eyes on you.'


	39. XXXIX: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

'Athena? Patch me through to Winston right now. Code Black.'

"Connecting."

"Lena?"

Tracer put the ridiculous monkey on speaker so Widow could hear his gruff voice.

'Winston. I think…we think Talon is about to attack.'

"If it was almost anyone but you I'd want some proof, but that's all I need to hear. Athena?"

"Initiating security level 5. All Overwatch agents on guard and in position for enemy infiltration. This is not a drill. Code Black is now active. Proceed with caution. Do not engage with Talon agents categorized as threat level 4 or higher. Repeat. Initiating security level – "

"Boop!"

Every single light went dark, and the alarm that had just started to sound could only echo its final siren. A shield had resonated over the base once Winston greenlit the security initiation, but even that faded to barely anything. A backup generator took over, but any form of illumination was minimal at best, and only a deep hum remained in place of the ear-piercing siren.

'Sombra.' Widow thought of the mischievous hacker immediately.

'Could've used a little more warning there, Sombra.' Tracer muttered almost familiarly, strangely enough. Her phone beeped, and she read the message aloud.

'She says, "Sorry, lovelies, but how could I turn down _that_ much money? Don't have to work a day in my life now! Talon is ready to mess you all up. Yikes. Not the kinda rough night you were hoping for, right, Tracer? Better get your guns! Things are about to explode!" Bloody hell…'

'As annoying as ever.'

'She's right though; I gotta get my guns.'

' _Our_ guns.'

Tracer hesitated, meeting Widow's eyes and shaking her head.

'No can do, Luv. We saw what happened earlier, right? It's too risky.'

'Oh? Then whatever is your plan? I'm better off defending myself.'

'But if you turn mid-fight what then, huh?'

The rain seemed to pick up its intensity as if answering Widow's clouded thoughts. She knew this irritating girl was right, but she certainly refused to admit it. Soon, voices were heard scrambling, various Overwatch agents moving into positions clearly already planned out for scenarios very similar to this one.

'I gotta get you back to your room. It's all we can do. It'll be secure. You'll be safe from them…and yourself.'

'You're leaving me!?' Widow hissed before she even realized what she was saying. Her mind ached, and thoughts of being separated from Tracer only led to the potential of a successful kidnapping by Talon. She shut her eyes in frustration, snapping her head to the side and gritting her teeth.

'I…gotta fight, Luv. I don't _want_ to leave you, trust me, but…'

' _I don't care_.' Widow turned and began walking through the rain, its pellets large and merciless. She was drenched in seconds, and thankful for it.

'Hey!' Tracer grabbed her wrist, a wave of relief and rage forcing Widow to jerk away.

'I won't go back. I _can't_ go back! They made me a monster! A beast! A demon! I murdered my own husband! I could only watch as they gouged my stomach empty of what could've been! Let me fight! _Let me fight those bastards!_ _Let me kill!_ '

Tracer's mouth tightened, and her eyes turned sympathetic; the same way she had looked at Widow when she first asked her that pivotal question: "Why?"

An explosion shook the base, but its source was closer to the command tower. Tracer and Widow both found their footing, and the Overwatch agent got on her phone, signalling Widow to follow her.

'What's the situation, Jack?' She asked, and then she went silent, her normally bubbly persona subdued. Widow observed more Overwatch agents scrambling, shouts and commands being issued as two more explosions sounded, one so close Widow felt the heat on her face despite the rain.

'Fine. I got it. I'm gonna outfit Widow with some equipment so she can defend herself.' Tracer picked up her pace, going into a light jog that Widow followed, her cybernetic eyes analyzing her surroundings and the waves of Overwatch agents still moving into positions already outlined prior. They gave her no attention, which she was thankful for.

'I wasn't asking for permission, Jack. If she does anything then it's on me, innit?'

Widow blinked rapidly, her and Tracer moving into the main part of Overwatch Gibraltar, the winding corridors leading to the weapons bay where other soldiers were getting equipped, Torbjorn and Brigitte hustling to outfit anyone and everyone that needed it.

'Move it, move it, move it! Get yer gun and go!' Torbjorn bellowed.

'Last checks! Everything ready?' Brigette slapped agents on the back, pushing them out and wishing them luck.

'Heya, Luvs! Tracer here.'

'Bout dame time! Take yer Pulse Pistols and a bomb. Do yer thing, Lena! The first wave was already pushed back by Jack and the rest in the frontlines, but after them explosions I'm thinkin' that was just a damn greetin'!'

'I'll need her stuff, too. Heheh!' Tracer pointed to Widow with her thumb.

'What!? No way no how! Who cleared that?'

'Um. Me?'

'Are you outta yer mind!?'

'A little. You got her gear though, right?'

'Under lock and key!'

'Then tick tock, Torb! All hands on deck!'

The small man grunted in disapproval, and Widow herself finally stepped forward.

'Please.' She said quite simply, but poured her whole heart into the request.

'Papa…' Brigette touched her father's shoulder, and the man growled loudly.

'I don't have time fer this standin' around! She's your responsibility, Lena! Don't take yer eyes off her, damn it!'

'Wouldn't dream of it!'

Within seconds, both Tracer and Widow had weapons in hand, and Widow would admit to herself that nerves tingled within every sense her body had recovered. Holding the Widow's Kiss frightened her. Her body innately knew what she had done with such a weapon. Even the grappling hook realigned to her wrist felt tight. She didn't have her recon visor, unfortunately, but still, it was all better than nothing.

'Thanks…' Widow muttered, and because of the downpour, Tracer didn't respond.

Another explosion, this one obnoxiously close, forcing Widow to use her enhanced physical prowess to stabilize herself, grabbing hold of Tracer before she fell.

'Clumsy as ever, little girl.'

'Jeez! How are they getting those bombs in here? There's a barrier and everything!'

'A weak one now, thanks to Sombra. And Talon has unlimited resources. They hired professionals, evidently.'

'Ugh! Come on!'

'Hmph.'

A large dip, and Widow followed Tracer up into the vicinity of the main tower, where Talon agents and Overwatch grunts were locked in combat. The explosions likely mapped out where Talon was successfully infiltrating, and the bulk of their forces were clearly being deployed here. Large, imposing aircrafts floated through the sky like alien ships, dropping more and more soldiers painted black to join the fray. The general darkness and rain helped matters not, and it was clear Talon's goal was to take over the command tower and disrupt Overwatch's ability to organize a decent counterattack further. Was this truly all just to get Widow back? The assassin was beginning to doubt as much.

Troopers and Enforcers made up the bulk of Talon's forces, but even they could do little against Overwatch's best. As Widow and Tracer approached the battle royale, she witnessed Winston, Jack Morrison, and Jesse McCree's inhuman abilities, and could instinctively sense Ana's presence, her shadow expertly lurking and dropping unsuspecting opponents while simultaneously providing support to her comrades.

'Ready, Luv?'

'I'm ready to _kill_.' Widow's eye twitched, and she actually felt her heart murmur.

'Then I'm trusting you, got it? Let's do this!'

'… _Yes._ '

'Cheers, Luvs! The cavalry's here!' Tracer screamed, and she disappeared, a blur of white-blue light trailing her as she charged straight into combat. Widow glanced up and noted a particularly high, large oval dome that seemed to be some form of communication device. She grappled above, the rain pelting against her face as she did so, and positioned herself, crouching low and readying her gun, seeing just how many Talon agents were being used in this attack.

Tracer was incredible, truly. Widow knew this intimately. The girl had no fear, and was in the middle of combat regularly, narrowly dodging fatal blows and reversing her time as needed. She herself picked off numerous agents, while Jack and the cowboy seemed nearly invincible with how well co-ordinated they were. Winston's portable shield scattered foes anywhere his massive form landed, and Widow finally spotted a dark mass in the corner of the upper door that led into the main control tower. Ana.

 _Kill her._

 _Kill them._

 _Kill them all._

Widow shook her head and directed her attention to the massive aircrafts bringing in Talon agents. They were slow vehicles, but heavily armoured, and attempting to down one – let alone a multitude of them – seemed impossible. Was her usefulness restricted to firing from above? So be it. She would kill as many as it took.

Her finger hesitated on the trigger, an image of Gerard's bulging eyes and purple face stopping her. A bloody mess slopped into a bucket froze Widow's mind, and she bit down hard on her lip, making the first shot at last and taking out a particularly mobile Assassin agent. He flipped midair, his fresh corpse collapsing into his brethren.

Even within the rain, Widowmaker's rifle echoed loud, it's deadly presence capable of sending chills down the toughest foe's spine. There was a very clear shift in Talon's movement then, a tentativeness filling the ranks as they couldn't divert their attention from the capable Overwatch agents before them, but also risked being downed like one of their most evasive troops just exemplified.

'Hah…' Widow breathed out slowly, her groin tingling. 'One shot…' She uttered under her breath, firing another round, her bullet penetrating a Talon agent's skull, his brain matter splattering everywhere. 'One kill.'

Something grazed Widow's cheek, and she licked the blood that trailed down to her lips.

'Heh. Amateur.' What was the best way to counter a sniper? With another sniper, naturally. Widow knew of the select few elite members of Talon who were meant to take on missions simple enough for their skill level. The trouble for them was that Widow was often the only individual trusted with important assassinations regardless, and within half a second, her brain processed precisely where the shot had come from, made the appropriate adjustments based on numerous variables, and aimed, locating her target and ending them swiftly.

Widow turned her attention to the battle below her, and noted Tracer's movements through her rifle's scope. One blink. Two. Three. Break. Recall. Break. One blink. Pause. Two, three.

 _Kill her._

Widow snapped back, her eyes burning. The will of Talon still resided within her, after all. She had to maintain control. This was her chance to be free of that cancerous organization. One misfire and even she knew it would be all but over for her.

Tracer recalled again, but an Assassin was on her, two other Troopers surrounding her. She easily got rid of one of the grunts, but the Assassin was formidable up close, and it reduced the gap between himself and the time bender. Without thinking, Widow readied her gun and took out the Assassin, providing Tracer the moment she needed to finish off her third opponent. She gave Widow a quick wave, but went back to work, evidently tiring some, but pushing through it all, as Widow had come to expect.

 _Kill her._

Overwatch was clearly taking control of the situation. Even when two Heavy Assault agents were dropped, Jack Morrison was an absolute monster, charging in alongside McCree and Tracer herself to take the deadly foes out before they could hurt some of the lesser skilled troops. Widow remained unchallenged, and Talon's army was dwindling by the minute.

It all seemed too simple.

Then, something caught the corner of Widow's eye. She wiped rain from her face, noting a glimmer flicker from one of the massive aircrafts, and no sooner had she given the disruption her momentary attention did an individual like that of a human meteorite descend onto the battlefield, smashing into the ground and taking out more than fifteen individuals – both friend and foe – who were unfortunate enough to be fighting on his landing pad. Widowmaker knew immediately that it was Doomfist, a.k.a., Akande Ogundimu.

The battle could very well shift in Talon's favour by his presence alone, and because of this, Widowmaker took aim and shot in one singular movement. Her precision was perfect, but Doomfist was hardly any ordinary foe, and he was already lifting a corpse the second he landed, tossing it in the air and using it as a shield. In the same action, he uppercut an Overwatch agent, loaded him midair with his hand cannon, slammed the now dead foe into the earth, and used the shockwave created under the surrounding elevated foes as a means to continue his assault.

Barely seven seconds had passed, but over twenty were dead by the incredible Akande Ogundimu, the latest successor to the almighty Doomfist name.

His point made, Akande stood tall, the fight brought to a standstill suddenly.

'I am here for one thing and one thing alone,' Doomfist began, his deep, masculine voice piercing through the downpour of rain. 'You have taken an important member of my inner circle from me. I have come to reclaim her. She goes by Widowmaker, and I _do_ believe she is up there based on the perfect shot that would have pierced my brain should I not have reacted in time.'

Widow's body trembled at the thought. "Reclaim"? Perhaps she had felt a notion of relief at being amongst Akande's most trusted people at one time, but that still meant working for Talon in some capacity, and that sliver of hope meant nothing in the face of…of what that foolish girl had shown Widow life could still possibly be regardless of the living hell she had endured.

'Looks to me like she doesn't wanna go.' Jack answered, his equally gruff tone a comparable adversary.

'Without her, the world risks remaining weak. She is an integral part of my plans – Talon's true purpose. Relinquish her, and we will let you all live. Do not, and face a terror not even I wish to unleash. It is your choice, ashes of what once was. The end result for Talon remains constant, but your inevitable casualties will not, depending on your answer.'

'Big talk from a guy who is currently outnumbered.' Jack pushed.

'Your backlines are dying.' Akande went on, unflinching. 'Reaper is having his fill.'

'Not according to our own force of nature.' Jack tapped the communicator on his head, but even Widow could see the way his stance changed ever so slightly at the mention of his old comrade.

'You believe that battle-crazed fool would admit anything but victory? His silly squire approaches death, and Reaper claims he's only just warming up. Your golden child could barely escape his wrath alive; how do expect anyone but perhaps yourself to manage anything better?'

'You're not taking Amelie!' Tracer finally stepped in, huffing heavily. 'She _wants_ to stay with us. We're saving her!'

Widow breathed out, shouldering her gun and taking aim on Akande anew. That girl…that foolish, foolish girl…

 _Kill her._

'You've confused her. It is not such a fantastical accomplishment. Her mind is fragile. Only we can help her now. And _she_ can help the world; as I intend to.'

'Are we done?' Jack's gun buzzed, the energy within it recharging.

'Last chance. What you say next determines how many of you die.' Doomfist growled.

Akande wasn't one to bluff, but at the same time, did he honestly believe he could take out some of the best Overwatch had to offer in a free-for-all? One-on-one, Widow had little doubt he could win, but with the likes of Ana in the wing and Jack, Winston, McCree, and Tracer in the frontlines, even Akande must've realized his chances of success were terribly low. He also had to be aware of Widow's presence, and that was something no fighter enjoyed taking into consideration when moving.

'She stays!' Tracer declared.

'You heard her.' Jack shrugged. 'Outranks me now and all.'

Akande's muscular shoulders dropped, his incredible gauntlet gleaming in the rain as he lifted a hand, all that remained of Talon scurrying behind him progressively.

'A pity. Let natural selection begin here, then.' Akande swung his hand down, but Jack and McCree attacked simultaneously, Doomfist forced to deflect their bullets and spring backward as another meteorite soon exploded, this one causing the very concrete to shatter completely, a small crater left in the enormous object's wake. Talon was downright scattering now, as if ants crawling back from whence they came. Only Doomfist remained, and he slowly approached the steaming metallic pod.

'Get back!' Jack hollered, intelligent enough in his evaluation, obviously noting the way Talon had nearly completely vacated the premise.

'A teleporter of some descript?' Winston fastened his glasses.

'The real kicker is what's inside, right? Better get them guns ready.' McCree whistled.

'The strong live, and the weak die. This world has lost all semblance of strength, allowing even the most unproductive among us to thrive on the backs of others.' Akande punched in a long code, and as he did so, Widow saw her chance, shooting once again. Whatever was in that pod was powerful enough to convince Akande he could win against the Overwatch elite.

Doomfist parried Widow's bullet with his irreplaceable gauntlet and twisted his body to avoid another opportunist in the form of Ana. Had she timed her attack alongside Widow's, anticipating precisely when she would strike again? How formidable. Small wonder she was considered a legend still.

Crouching, Akande went on, the pod's entrance opening dramatically.

'I say, no more. Prove your worth, Overwatch!'

'Give it everything you got! Now! Now! Now!' Jack screamed at the top of his lungs. 'Tactical Visor activated!'

'You're powered up! Get in there!'

' _RAWWWRRR!_ '

Widow would admit, she was rather impressed. Never mind the barrage of bullets from the multitude of grunts, but the combined powers of all the "Masters" and "Grandmasters" present was a sight to behold. Could _anything_ survive that level of firepower? It just didn't seem possible. Talon underestimated Overwatch, just as they underestimated Widow's will to fight back. This fight was an idiotic act of futility. If Talon wanted a chance at winning against such an organization, they couldn't hold back. That much was clear.

 _Unless…_

Before the dust had even settled, Winston's body flew backward, slamming into the ground and sliding until it collided with the main tower. His armour had protected him well enough, and Ana's nano boost made the already durable ape nearly invincible, but he was clearly disoriented, shaking his head as various agents assisted him.

'If your rank is any lower than Master…find some cover! That's an irrefutable order!' Jack snapped his arm out as if protecting his men and women. His battle instincts had kicked in. Even Widow's skin prickled with animalistic fear. Whatever was in that pod, whatever had endured such an attack, and whatever had toppled the enormous Winston, was about to emerge.

The agents did as they were told, if hesitantly, and there were only approximately a dozen individuals left. Widow readied her rifle, but as she did so, an arm reached around her waist, and another grappled her mouth, restricting her in a grip like iron.

'Watch.' Akande whispered in her ear.

The metal upon his gauntlet bit into Widow's face, and he held her so tight the smallest movement risked crushing her organs. Widow realized then that she just might be taken back to Talon, and the mere possibility of that terrified her beyond reason.

'Do not struggle. Dr. O'Deorain can always repair what I break in you.' An armoured finger pushed into Widow's mouth a moment later, nearly choking her. 'And no escaping that way either.'

 _Kill. Kill. Kill…_

It was hard to see clearly. The being that stepped out of the pod was just a little bigger than Winston, its shape not completely different either, although it was mostly black, the rain making its coat of smooth steel shine in the night. It was almost like a Bastion unit merged with an OR14, yet it had organic remnants as well, as though it were both an animal and an omnic at once.

'What the hell…?' McCree was the first to comment.

'Damn it. Another one.' Jack could be heard.

'The one Mr. Morrison destroyed in Volskaya Industries was nothing but the most basic of prototypes. Overwatch, interestingly enough, classified it as a Berserker, so our little hacker claims. That was quite a happy accident, for they're all berserkers with subclasses. Let me introduce you to the Berserker Tank, the world's first exposure to Talon's Black Omnic series.'

Widow now knew precisely why Talon had cleared out. Generally, when something was considered a berserker by any nature, it was near impossible to control. Not even Doomfist wanted to be nearby when this thing was set loose. After the display of firepower Overwatch had just enacted to no avail, what hope did Widow have?

'Its durability cannot be matched, as you have witnessed. A slow death awaits your new friends because of their stubborn attitude. Pity. I admire their collective strength. However, although this B.T. lacks raw firepower, it will not run out of energy before the remnants of Overwatch, and they can only hide for so long. Abandon ship, perhaps, but that would be the only way. How valuable all this information laying here would be for Talon.'

Widow grunted at last, staring down and looking for Tracer, whom she couldn't find. Was she helping the other agents evacuate? Where was she? Was Widow truly destined to return to the hell Talon promised? When she finally saw a flicker of light in the abyss of her life?

'Retrieve every E.M.P. bomb we have! Go! McCree and Winston; we'll hold this thing off.' Jack issued the commands, some of the agents retreating inside, and some others circling the perimeter. The B.T. didn't hesitate further, and it leapt upon one of the agents, crushing him underfoot and flattening his skull in the pavement. The bulky monstrosity could move, much like Winston, once again. It turned to Jack, McCree, and the enormous ape, its red eyes shining, illuminating the black, tar-like skin stretched over its metallic body crudely.

'It weighs close to a tonne. An unfortunate way to die.' Akande huffed.

Widow struggled slightly, testing the waters, and as anticipated, she only hurt herself, Doomfist's hold unbelievably strong. She wouldn't go back. Never. The first opportunity she had she would kill herself. That was that. Anything was better than becoming their sick puppet again. Anything was better than the torture being brought to Moira O'Deorain promised.

Her eyes watered, the cybernetic technology behind them burning.

'Shh. Do not fear. You are one of the chosen, Widowmaker. This is simply a means to bring you to the path you are destined to walk. You will stand atop the weak alongside me and the true face of Talon.'

Never. That girl. That foolish, idiotic, bumbling, immature, awkward…caring…kind…considerate…loving girl…How could Widow face her if she just went so easily?

'Psst! What you lookin' at?' Tracer's voice appeared, and Doomfist's hold slackened for but a millisecond; ages for the skilled Widowmaker to dislodge herself from him, kicking the man away as Tracer rapidly shot at his form, his gauntlet protecting him, but hindering his view enough for Widow to grab hold of Tracer by the waist and grapple far and away, leaping over the B.T.

'Hahah! Drop me here, Luv!' Tracer demanded, and although a very small part of Widow refused to let her go, she did as she was told, trusting the Overwatch agent.

Tracer blinked back and forth, the B.T. only barely reacting to her approach before she attached a bomb to the core of the beast's body. Her recall would come next. It was perfect. Tracer knew precisely what she was doing. Widow was already smirking, until a spark of electricity trailed the B.T.'s sharp hand, and the recall didn't happen. Tracer remained before the ticking bomb, seconds before its detonation, and only Widow was close enough to do anything about it.

There was nothing to think about.

 _Let her die._

'No.' Widow exclaimed aloud, and she released her grappling hook, twisting her descent so that she could only pray she would get to Tracer in time.


	40. XL: Mercy

Mercy

She awoke to a sharp pain in her neck. Squirming through the discomfort, Angela rubbed the tender area, pushing herself up in bed and blinking rapidly to get her eyes adjusting more hastily than they wished to. The spasm continued and, as if encouraged by the present stabbing, her heart fluctuated alarmingly until the nanomachines seemed to level themselves, calming the irritation progressively.

' _Ever more…_ ' Angela uttered darkly.

The doctor checked her phone, leaning back upon the pillows and reviewing two dozen messages, half flagged with "urgent". By the time she finished with approximately six of the e-mails, a jolt shook her soul, and she looked around frantically, remembering where she was quite suddenly.

Oasis. A hotel. The convention and presentations would start today. She needed to get ready.

Then, a more elating recollection. Angela glanced to Fareeha's bed, the sheets somewhat pulled neatly over the mattress, but no woman present whatsoever. Angela went back to the home screen of her phone and checked the messages from her usually rather vacant social folder. There rested a little note from Fareeha.

"Going for a jog. I'll be back by nine. Good morning."

Angela's eyes flickered, and she covered her face with her hands, the heat resonating from her cheeks soothing, at least.

'That somewhat lacks tact, Ms. Amari. I…want to see you.' Angela admitted openly. There was a hole in her chest, and she understood now why it was there. She missed Fareeha, as silly as it sounded. She _made_ love for the first time in her life, and it was, quite fortunately, with someone she was certainly _in_ love with.

In love.

It was such a curious notion; one Angela had begun to suspect she would never fully understand beyond familial adoration. And yet, she and Fareeha had talked so late into the night after the extreme act of intimacy which, even now, stirred Angela's desires with the mere thought. More than that, however, was the absolute trust she felt with Fareeha. Laying on her arm, feeling the woman's hand gripping her bare shoulder, and revelling in the way she gently combed Angela's hair with her strong fingers was comparable, somehow, to the actual act of love prior. Further still, the more Angela simply interacted with Fareeha on the most basic of levels, the more her feelings grew, and it was almost frightening how rapidly she adored the younger woman.

Angela stared at the floor for a moment, recalling how Fareeha's hands had explored every inch of her body. She had no intention of allowing the girl to do any such thing, but the arousal of the situation gave her little to counter with, and before she knew it, she was viewing the way Fareeha's navigation of her form provided more pleasure than she could have imagined. She had a strong touch, but was so gentle when it came to the most sensitive part. Such consideration could only lead to satisfaction, and what Angela eventually felt left her dumb, drunk with lust within the present reflection.

The doctor shivered, diverting her attention back to her phone and responding to the last cries for help. She still derived joy knowing she was helping others, but this selfish side of her drew concern. She was distracted with the newness of these emotions, and had difficulty focusing completely on anything else. What of her current projects? What of her research? What of the great doctor's ambitions to help the world where it wouldn't help itself? It was much more difficult to consider giving everything she had to such grand ideas when she knew a tug on her heart came from the mere concept of spending time with Ana Amari's daughter.

She had to tell her.

Ana deserved to know. In fact, she would prefer that all of her close comrades knew…for a number of reasons. It's not as though Angela was completely embarrassed, but she supposed she wasn't exactly free from any shame either. Growing up, Angela never felt attraction to another woman. Indeed, it wasn't a path she gave any form of consideration to. She knew of the social deviance, for even with the legalities of marriage squared away for most of the world it was _still_ – somehow, someway – viewed as a choice in the minority, thus making loving one's own sex, at the end of the day, odd. Yet, Fareeha was the sole exception. It would appear that sex didn't matter when it came to love, in Angela's case. She fell for Fareeha as a human first and foremost. The fact she was a female was just that. All in all, Fareeha _did_ have a semblance of masculinity about her, so, perhaps that's what made her completely irresistible.

What perhaps gave Angela pause even more was the age difference, she concluded. Fareeha was _so_ young, it seemed, when Angela first met her. She recalled the little girl, perhaps no older than thirteen or so, in a pretty little dress with pretty sparkling eyes. Ana was so proud. The way the woman showed Fareeha off to any who would give her the time of day was adorable. Logistically, the five-year difference shouldn't mean a thing whatsoever, but something in Angela wiggled in discomfort, as though she were taking advantage of a young woman before she could make clear, uninfluenced decisions. Obviously, this wasn't true in the slightest, but humans had a bizarre way of viewing scenarios, at times. Answering to Ana, with all this in mind, was just a touch intimidating.

Nonetheless, Angela would do it. She wanted to show how proud she herself was of Fareeha Amari, and the first step could be taken today, if she had the courage she claimed she housed.

A beep slipped through the door, and the much thought of, dark-skinned woman stealthily snuck in, but then found Angela's eyes, and grinned charmingly, a wave of heat instantly coursing through Angela's veins.

'Good morning.' Fareeha said almost in a whisper, her hair up in a rare ponytail, only a sports bra and shorts covering her toned, attractive body.

'G-good morning.' Angela stuttered, shocked by how flustered she was in Fareeha's presence suddenly. The other girl was damp with sweat, her deep blue sports bra darkened by her perspiration. Her stomach – one of Angela's favourite features, admittedly – invited the soft lighting within the room to illuminate the muscles within, lines and subtle shapes enough to curl Angela's toes under the covers.

'You look beautiful.' Fareeha said so easily and slyly it caught Angela off guard. She shivered, bringing her phone to her face to hide the inevitable reddening.

'I honestly doubt that, but thank-you.' She paused, feeling as though it was always Fareeha paying such compliments, and wishing to return the favours as easily. 'I missed you.' Angela admitted, hoping it was enough. The sparkle that flickered through the tall woman's eyes seemed to suggest it was.

'Sorry. I…needed the workout. After last night…I was anxious. My chest hurt, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I sometimes wonder if I'm allowed to be so happy. It doesn't seem fair considering what parts of the world are going through; what might still happen considering the swelling crisis. I try to think that this love I feel for you can only make me fight harder, as it did in China. When I look at our relationship from that perspective, it helps.'

'The fact you have such thoughts convinces me that I have chosen quite correctly, Ms. Amari.' Angela smiled, patting a spot next to her on the bed.

'…I'm sweaty.'

'A perpetual source of hesitation, it would appear. I care not. I missed you, Fareeha; didn't I make that clear? Please sit next to me for a spell.'

Fareeha did as she was told, a sweet scent emanating from her body.

'Heheh. You _do_ smell rather fresh.' Angela giggled, and Fareeha stood up again abruptly.

'Teasing me already? I'm going to shower.'

'A fine idea.' Angela pushed off the bed. 'I suggest we participate in a method of conservation and do so simultaneously. It would effectively save water and time, wouldn't you say?'

'Er…well, yes.'

'Then it's decided. You don't mind, do you?'

'…I don't.'

And it was quite obvious the Egyptian woman was doing anything but lying, for she was quick to strip Angela naked and escort her into the lovely accommodations, turning the water to the perfect temperature and lathering the doctor with a pleasant, pomegranate-flavoured bodywash. Their curves and mounds brushed one another constantly, and there was a certain excitement involved with seeing Fareeha drenched, her dark hair straight and sticking to her closely.

Angela turned, lifting her hands around Fareeha's neck and looking up at her, staring into her brown eyes. Water splashed between them, and Angela shuffled in a little closer, their breasts pressing into one another's. No words were spoken, but their gazes never wavered, and then they were kissing deeply, as if continuing their intimacy from the night before.

'Your grip is so strong.' Angela commented eventually, Fareeha's hand moving from her lower backside to her hips suddenly. 'Oh, I didn't say to stop. Surprisingly, I rather like the way your somewhat large hand squeezes my ass.'

'Hahah! It's so odd to hear you use words like that.'

'Heheh! Quite liberating, I must say. It's been so long since I could relax like this in the presence of another.' Fareeha's hand returned, massaging Angela anew. 'Mmm…That feels really good.'

'Almost as good as saving the environment by not wasting water.' Fareeha laughed, pressing her forehead against Angela's. She couldn't help giggling as well.

'So true! We are quite the activists! Completely unselfish!'

'Oh, I couldn't agree more. I definitely do not revel in the fact I have been blessed with this moment of closeness with you.'

'Suffocating, really.' Angela embraced Fareeha tightly, resting her head on her collar, the water washing over her cheeks, blending a variety of moisture. 'Thank-you…'

'For what?'

A beat.

'For being here; with me.'

'Naked in a shower?'

She opened her mouth to say more, to perhaps express the morbid fear entering the formulas hidden deep in her mind. But Angela couldn't. It didn't seem right. She wasn't even certain. So, she simply gripped Fareeha, caressing her gorgeous skin.

'Heh. Naked in a shower.'

* * *

Breakfast was had, and then preparation for the convention began. Angela insisted on changing in the washroom, while Fareeha did so in the main area of their hotel room. Naturally, it wasn't out of shyness that Angela got ready in a separate room; it was out of pleasure, for she wanted to see how Fareeha looked at her once she had changed. She put much more effort into her outfit than ever before, although ultimately went with something a little simple.

A white, rather tight dress that tied around her neck and had quite the high slit on her left side was her choice for the festivities. The headband she had purchased as well, almost completely as an aside, was a pleasant addition. It was also white, but had a beautiful soft pink and white floral arrangement. Angela did her hair up in a little fancier of a ponytail, and finally put in a small pair of pearl earrings. She evaluated herself in the mirror, nodded with approval, and stepped out, wondering if Fareeha would be in a suit or something of that nature, knowing the other woman.

However, once Angela was back in the main room and spotted Fareeha, she nearly forgot to breathe. The woman cleaned up like nobody Angela knew. How could someone be so masculine and intimidating in one breath turn into one of the most attractive, "feminine" women Angela had ever seen? Fareeha brushed some hair from her eyes and angled her head pleasingly, waving a little to Angela, showing a slight amount of nerves as she did so.

Fareeha was wearing a stylish dark aqua dress that cut very deep down the middle into a thick, black leather belt around her waist. Then, the remainder of the piece had pronounced, golden buttons squaring the rest until about her knees. The partially accented shoulders and gold choker only added to the visage. Angela couldn't look away from the amount of cleavage Fareeha was comfortable showing; it did not seem like her at all. The cut of the top met just below her shapely breasts. Overall, however, Fareeha was absolutely stunning. The colour choice was perfect for her skin tone, and the way she did her makeup made her brilliant, sultry eyes pop even more.

'Do I look strange?' Fareeha asked after a little too much silence passed between the two women.

'N-no…Not at all. I…Well, I'll admit I didn't expect you to dress as such.'

'Tracer helped me pick it out. I think she knows I like you. It was difficult to hide my intent. She's also very persistent.'

'She _is_ that.' Angela shook her head. 'But, my God, I didn't anticipate this. You could be a model. Did you know that?'

'I am too muscular, I think.'

'Hardly.' Angela sighed, still shaking her head. 'Unbelievable. A small wonder the men wouldn't leave you alone.'

'I could say the same to you, Dr. Ziegler. I thought an angel had stepped out of the washroom for a split second. How am I expected to perform my duty as a bodyguard when I'll be constantly distracted by the spitting image of perfection?'

She meant it. It was clear she meant every word. Perhaps that's why Angela couldn't stop blushing.

'You're a professional. I have my faith.'

'I am glad.' Fareeha lingered, and then she approached Angela, almost somewhat predatorily. She touched her bare shoulders, and her warm hands calmed Angela, the tension in her muscles soothed. 'If you are…approached, how would you prefer I act?'

Angela smirked slyly, touching Fareeha's angular jaw and kissing her lips tenderly.

'Allow me to handle such an occurrence, won't you?'

* * *

A taxi was called, and it took Angela and Fareeha approximately half an hour to arrive at the convention, its scope even larger than the last event Dr. Ziegler had been invited to. The omnic driver tipped his hat, and both women thanked him generously, shuffling out of the nice vehicle and standing before the enormous celebration of science and technological advancement. The first big presentation started in about an hour, so, Fareeha and Angela were cutting it a little close as it was, but they entered the slow-moving line to the main area, the outer perimeter filled with some aspiring innovators putting on free shows of their discovery with hope of catching someone's eye that had influence. Angela took note of a few experiments that appeared particularly promising, and wished she had time to investigate further.

The convention itself was incapsulated by an enormous tent, hard-light technology implemented to erect buildings and showrooms as necessary. Brilliant minds spanning between humans and omnics filled the area, and navigating the masses was already proving to be a challenge.

Angela and Fareeha presented their identification to the final checkpoint, the facilitators giving them approving nods, and then they were in the thick of it, pamphlets dictating which panels were occurring when and the main presentations outlined exceptionally clearly, the expectation that any scientist worth their salt would be witnessing the discoveries warranting such a gathering.

'How many of these…er…panels do you usually attend?' Fareeha asked, the two women finding a small area to make some form of plan.

'Not many, truthfully. Some of the biological ones can be intriguing, but – '

'Dr. Ziegler! Is that really you, Dr. Ziegler?'

A man called out, and he was hastily joined by a multitude of others.

'Are you kidding? Of course, it's her! Looking younger every day!'

'What incredible discoveries will you be displaying for us during _this_ convention?'

'The last thesis you presented on the theory of transferring information from a dying brain to an artificially created, nearly perfected one was fascinating!'

'No, no! I was much more invested in the theory of nanotechnology and the ability to duplicate cells in the attempt to prevent aging.'

'Clearly that is no longer a theory, is it?'

'Hahahah!'

'Hohohoh!'

'I see.' Fareeha acknowledged, perhaps putting the pieces together.

'Thank-you, my friends. I am just a guest this time. I am curious to observe what my colleagues have managed to discover, however.' Angela politely dismissed herself.

'Oh? Taking an extended vacation, are we? Perhaps it is for the best. Gives the young ones a chance to shine.'

'Resting on one's laurels can be a graceful way of alleviating the pressure of one's own impeccable success.'

Angela shrugged nonchalantly, noting the double-edged compliments, but so used to such cawing that it mattered little to her. She was always slightly isolated growing up because of how differently she saw the world, and that only carried over to these social gatherings as well. She was talked _at_ ; very rarely _to_. She was seen as an ends to a mean. As someone great things could be derived from. Overwatch made her feel differently, because it was comprised of geniuses from a multitude of fields. Perhaps that's what ultimately made her dedicate her talent to the organization to begin with. That, and she could…

'She was here, in the forgotten parts of this country until recently, working in a decrepit hospital giving care to individuals leaders, who truly sometimes "rest on their laurels", have deemed unworthy of energy or resources.' Fareeha cut in, obvious anger in her voice.

The fellow scientists and enthusiasts flinched back, and some of them even appeared embarrassed.

'Is that true?' One of the older men asked.

'It is. I had no intent of advertising as much, mind you. Thus, although I've dabbled further in my nanomachine experimentation, my focus _has_ been helping those in need; primarily in locations few doctors are willing to work with. The Omnic Crisis left many places in shambles, and I refuse to dismiss such locations as unworthy of my time.'

Another pause, but this time, a small applause began, and Angela's face burned, waving her hands to try and calm the act of appreciation.

'Stop it, really…'

Excusing themselves from the miniature crowd eventually, Fareeha and Angela lingered around the showroom, more scientists with sectioned-off zones giving lectures and displaying what discoveries they had made. Fareeha retrieved some water for both herself and Angela, cracking open the doctor's before handing it to her. It was such a little act, but somehow it filled Angela with more emotion than any word of admiration from her fellow scientists. She consciously stood close to Fareeha, wanting to feel the woman's body against her back, the amount of people present making their closeness not worthy of questioning.

'So, you _are_ one of the leading minds in such a field?' Fareeha asked.

'Only as far as human health and biology might reach. Those were where my studies focussed, and I simply happened to excel at advancing the medical practise to the point that I am somewhat recognized.'

'I've seen your name mentioned numerous times on television, and heard it on the radio back in the army. You've helped millions because of your discoveries.'

'I can only hope.' Angela answered honestly. 'The gifted should always use their abilities for the betterment of mankind. I am able to live comfortably because of my contributions, and any excess monetary gain I have is automatically distributed amongst a number of charities once my account reaches a certain pre-authorized limit. I have no need for multiple houses or the latest mode of transportation. Such frivolity has never meant anything to me. Seeing a saved patient smile in a way only one who thought they were destined to die within days can is worth every discovery and advancement I make. Reaching out when nobody else will; _that_ is what it means to be a doctor and hero of what I believe Overwatch can be.'

Angela coughed, drinking more of her water and turning to the side.

'Excuse me. That almost sounds arrogant, doesn't it?'

Fareeha's hand found Angela's shoulder, and the doctor touched the warm grip, closing her eyes a moment.

'Your ability to impress me has no limit, it would seem.'

'That wasn't my intent…' Angela replied honestly.

'I know. But you rarely speak of such personal things. I feel lucky.'

'Well, perhaps you should…' Angela tried to jest, but the embarrassment had her distracted. She glanced around the convention more, wanting to hold Fareeha's hand but instinctively resisting the urge. Finally, someone's panel truly caught her eye, and she tugged at Fareeha's sleeve, pointing to a somewhat vacant little display.

'Come with me, Fareeha.' She urged, and within minutes, they were standing before a homely looking, young Chinese woman who Angela had had many interactions with; although not in person, in most cases. Still, this scientist was one of the few Angela honestly respected, and she greeted her enthusiastically.

'Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou. How are you? I don't think you've aged a day since I last saw you. What's your secret?'

'Hahah! Angela! I'm well. And to answer your question: Cryostasis. But I'm not sure I'd recommend it.'

'Fareeha, this is Dr. Zhou. Mei-Ling Zhou. She was part of the multi-year initiative to look into planetary disruptions via eco-Watchpoints. Her field of expertise is abnormal climate phenomena.'

'Oh. I see! You were part of the original Overwatch?'

'In a manner of speaking, yes. A lot happened, and I got Winston's call…eventually, but he highly encouraged me to attend this event, if possible.'

Mei's little robot companion, Snowball, bounced about, cooing in an adorable fashion.

'A pleasure.' Fareeha extended her hand, giving Mei's a shake.

'Ow!'

'I-I'm sorry!' Fareeha stammered.

'Your bodyguard?' Mei batted her hand in the air, her glasses sliding off her button-nose and her hair already in disarray thanks to the humidity seeping into the well-conditioned tents.

'Quite. She is Ana Amari's daughter. Interesting, no?'

'That explains the monstrous strength.'

'We scientists simply aren't meant for physical activities, I suppose.'

'Meh. It doesn't help that I have Snowball do so much.'

The machine blipped.

'Are you okay?' Fareeha persisted, and Angela patted her arm, knowing the woman would struggle with the idea of hurting one of Angela's few friends.

'She's fine. Mei's always been a little dramatic.'

'Aw! Don't be mean, Angela! I'm fragile, okay?'

'Of course, you are.'

There was some laughter, and Angela swallowed, clearing her throat and continuing the conversation prior with a focussed mind. Now or never. This was the perfect opportunity to prove herself.

'Fareeha isn't only my bodyguard, I might add. I am quite proud to say she is my girlfriend as well.'

'Oh!' Mei nodded, and Angela saw the way Fareeha looked at her, obviously perplexed by the sudden claim. 'How nice! Friends are always important; especially on such an important mission.'

Snowball almost sounded like he was frustrated for a moment as Angela persisted, the temptation to go along with Mei's misunderstanding annoyingly present.

'No, Mei. We are in a romantic relationship.'

Mei blinked, fixing her glasses and shaking her head spastically.

' _You_!? Wha~at? I don't believe it!'

'It's true. I am also honoured to be valued so by the world-famous doctor.' Fareeha stepped in, her smile unrelenting. It was wonderful to see.

'W-wow…' Mei trailed, and then almost crowded Angela. 'What is that all about!? I thought we were sisters! You know? Married to our work! How did you do it? Do I have to go after girls, too? No. I couldn't. No offense. But it's just not me. Although you're very beautiful, Fareeha. But…b-but…Ugh!'

Snowball chirped a little, tapping at Mei's tea on the corner of her desk. The quirky girl sighed, giving Angela back her space and taking a sip of her beverage.

'Boy, oh, boy. That's just crazy. I'm happy for you, really, but I didn't think you'd ever find someone to live up to your impossible standards; much less another woman. I'm totally shocked.'

'She often makes _me_ wonder if I'm worthy of _her_ , I should add.' Angela bragged.

'Angela…Don't say that.' Fareeha attempted to refuse.

'Huh. You two do kinda fit though, don't you?' Mei went on, grinning a little. 'Hard to put my finger on it, but it's organic, you know? Like, stuff in nature just sorta makes sense. I get the same vibe from you both. Neat. Super cute, too. I'm getting less jealous. You're both obviously totally into one another. Aw…'

'A-anyway.' Fareeha was apparently done with the compliments. 'How is your panel progressing?'

'Not so great. I get a lot of people laughing at what I'm saying. It's not the most interesting stuff either, so, yeah. There's that.'

'Of course.' Angela scoffed. 'Our planet doesn't matter; who needs it?'

'Right? Hahah! It's pretty frustrating.' Mei took off her glasses and wiped a spot off them, it seemed. 'But the main event is starting soon, isn't it? I heard something about a new omnic type being introduced. Insane, am I right? I'm pretty curious though! It's been so long since a new model came out, what with the legalities of it all getting tougher and tougher to work through.'

'Indeed.' Angela nodded, reflecting upon the omnic she and Jack had fought in St. Petersburg. The thought ran a chill through her spine, and she felt Fareeha's warm hand touch her exposed skin.

'Should we make our way over there, then?' Fareeha offered.

'Oh! Do you mind if I tag along? I just need to tidy up a couple of things.' Mei requested, and it was impossible to say no to the cheery, hardworking girl.

As the trio (also including Snowball) traversed to the main "hall" for the scheduled showcase, they were progressively forced to navigate an ever-growing crowd. Angela was spoken to here and there, but Fareeha was somewhat forceful with moving things along, likely encouraged by Angela's claim to their relationship.

Angela took Fareeha's hand amidst the montage of people, and felt her heart murmur. She was happy to have told Mei the truth, and looked forward to being more honest back at Overwatch's main base of operations in Gibraltar. Ana was the only real form of intimidation, but beyond that, Angela hadn't lied when using her words before. "Proud" didn't begin to describe how she viewed Fareeha in her mind, but it was a satisfactory start, at the very least.

Everyone was soon ushered into a rather large, arena-like area, its construct somewhat artificial looking, the seats and even stage emitting a subtle, soft blue hue. Angela suspected the infamous hard-light technology at play, thanks to the Vishkar Corporation. She personally didn't love the advancement in science, but she couldn't deny its uses here and there either. It was a nod to the corporation's success, and thus, made sense to be in use at such an event.

'I heard Ibrahim Hassoun, Anya Al-Shahrani, Youssef al-Jabiri, and Mehmet Farhat would be present during this presentation. Apparently, we should expect something quite amazing.' Mei whispered, the mentioning of some of the creators of Oasis intriguing enough.

Angela nodded, looking through one of the pamphlets she had been given upon arrival and noting the lead scientist for the main event of the weekend. A coolant filled her veins, and she narrowed her brow, not exactly surprised, but irritated nonetheless.

'Dr. Moira O'Deorain is the guest of honour, it would seem.' She expounded upon verbally.

'Mm.' Fareeha grunted.

'Right. I'm supposed to keep an eye on her.' Mei lowered her voice. 'She's…a bad guy now?'

'I would have never considered her "good" to begin with.' Angela muttered. 'Nonetheless, a conversation with her wouldn't be out of the question, if she would see me.'

'If you asked, I'm sure she would. I think you're one of the few individuals she feels _some_ respect for.'

'Perhaps.' Angela breathed out slowly. She hadn't engaged in many direct conversations with Moira, but the ones she could recall were frustrating at best. She was an arrogant woman, but it wasn't precisely misplaced pride either. She was also a genius; one that would haunt Angela's ambitions for the rest of her life, she feared. What had Moira created that was worth such a spectacle? Instinct told Angela to be especially wary.

'Oh…!' Mei exclaimed, hard-light walls erecting around the stadium and all natural light being lost to darkness, only phones and omnic receptors illuminating anything for a moment.

'It's starting, I guess.' Fareeha crossed her arms.

'This is rather frightening. You'll protect me, won't you?' Angela giggled quietly.

'Without hesitation!' Fareeha nudged her back.

'Shh!' Mei huffed, her jealousy seeping through again.

An enormous screen projected before the audience, and sombre music began as a desolate sea of sand filled the image. A panning shot encompassed the empty landscape, a harsh environment if ever there was one on full display.

"In the beginning, there was no hope for this country. The Omnic Crisis stripped the momentum of potential and scarred those in power beyond repair."

Slowly, and perfectly rendered, a city was erected in the sand, its swirling streets and sky-scraping buildings formed before the naked eye majestically. It was an impressive display, Angela thought, the inspirational movie enough to move those easily swayed.

"Yet, thanks to those with vision and ambition, and through the power of science, engineering, and harmonious dedication, Oasis was built where many had claimed to be a dead land. Because of science, we have gathered here today in celebration. And as the world moves on, science – and all the technological, biological, and psychological benefits it enforces – will remain the pinnacle of human and omnic advancement."

The shot zoomed out, encircling Oasis, and labelling the final image with text that called out to the convention, various sponsors (including the Vishkar Corporation, Angela caught) flickering. The music reached its crescendo, and the audience clapped rather enthusiastically as the hard-light walls were disengaged alongside the projection, and a singular woman stepped onto stage looking just a little uncomfortable. She was of Indian descent, presumably, and her skin tone reminded Angela of Fareeha's, instantly making her more attractive to the older woman. Her features were extremely sharp, but as a doctor, Angela immediately identified something just slightly off about the way she took everything in.

'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. My name is Satya Vaswani, and I am a representative of the Vishkar Corporation. Thank-you for having me and allowing me this honour. All hard-light engineering at work is thanks to my company, and should you wish to learn more about us and our goals for world peace and progress, feel free to visit our company's site within the convention area.'

She barely looked at the crowd. In fact, she actively avoided making eye contact. Stage fright? Perhaps. Yet, Angela was beginning to make a diagnosis. What Satya did next nearly finalized all deductions. The woman snapped her fingers, and then began what appeared to be a dance, more music joining her that clearly had roots in her country. As she moved, she seamlessly created what looked to be a grand display meant for mounting an idol, or something of that nature, although the said item worthy of the detailed, hard-light creation was sorely vacant.

The audience ate it up, Satya's shapely form and almost tantalizing activities likely not going unnoticed by the male population either. An applause sounded once more, and Satya gave a bow, still avoiding looking directly at the audience. A touch of autism, perhaps? Angela couldn't be sure. She would have to interact with her personally or witness the way she handled herself in a more intimate social setting. Curious.

The music faded once again, and Mei tugged at Angela's arm, bouncing a little as she did so.

'Oh! I-I think it's time!'

A deep, humming tone echoed through the auditorium, as if the beginning to a particularly epic movie was being mimicked. A high-pitched sound harmonized with the tune, and soon, three individuals slowly stepped out from the main sector of the convention. Before the figure's faces were fully in view, the crowd exploded, and Angela recognized the creators of this progressive city. Ibrahim Hassoun, Anya Al-Shahrani, and Youssef al-Jabiri appeared, their lavish robes and luminescent accessories making them all spectacles of varying degrees. They carried presence with them, and alongside that a wealth of knowledge and influence few men or women could without successfully influencing the world dramatically or living in a fantasy realm of pure ignorance. These individuals, Angela would say quite assuredly, were of the former variety.

'One's missing. That's a little strange.' Mei mumbled.

Ibrahim lifted his hand after much longer than Angela would have, and the sounds from the audience ceased instantly. He breathed out dramatically, and nodded to those on either side of him, Satya's creation still glowing brilliantly behind them.

'Human. Machine. We are all one within the Iris. These were some of Tekhartha Mondatta's final words. Words we have kept in our hearts since his tragic passing.' Ibrahim was the tallest and most slender of the lot, his tanned skin and overly long, white beard fitting his mannerisms perfectly. He preferred reddish-hued accessories, a rather gaudy amount of jewellery hanging from his neck and decorating his fingers.

'Keeping these words in mind, we have collaborated with one of the most brilliant souls in the world to bring humans and machines closer together than ever before.' Anya added on cue, the staged presentation a little irksome in its delivery to Angela for some reason.

'Allow us to introduce our guest of honour, and newest member of our personal council here in Oasis, Dr. Moira O'Deorain, who will present one of the greatest scientific achievements of our time.' Youssef finished. At least they weren't dragging out the scenario unrealistically. These were men and women of science, and that meant theatrics were not their forte or the audience's primary interest.

Fareeha's hand touched Angela's, and she glanced to the girl, somehow almost forgetting she was sitting beside the beautiful woman. She grinned a little, shrugging nonchalantly.

'You're irritated?' Fareeha whispered into Angela's ear, and her neck prickled.

'Inevitably. Does it show so obviously?'

Fareeha smiled charmingly, turning her attention back to the presentation so as to not be rude.

'Not really.' She answered slyly, and the implications gave Angela some spark of pleasure.

Moira practically glided onto the stage, her perfect posture and robes matching that of the three greater scientists and visionaries. She opted for primarily gold and white colours, an accented purple touch here and there to make for quite the outfit. When she stood before the crowd, her attention went immediately to Angela, whom she somehow picked out without even looking, and a tiny smirk played across her snake-like features. She then began speaking, the silence of the crowd truthfully screaming in anticipation.

'For years, Oasis has been conducting experiments on a mass of black, symbiotic matter akin to that of near alien functionality. Through experimentation, this contained, spherical substance revealed signs of conscious, instinctive thought similar to that of a plant or other "living" organism. With my assistance, we have managed to begin harnessing this mysterious entity's properties, implementing them into possible use, although the finite source restricted outsourced theories and concepts.'

Angela recalled the black matter Moira spoke of. It was in the news quite some time ago. The strange, excavated collection of shadowy, nearly breathing liquidized energy pulsated as though it were a breathing, giant nut with fluctuating, rough surfaces. A use was finally found for it, then? Much more interesting than Angela foresaw this presentation being.

'Allow me to present the fruit of my labours and the opportunity of a lifetime for omnics worldwide should we manage to procure more of this substance and streamline its distribution to those who wish to undergo a minor operation.'

A pause, and the humming music escalated as another human stepped onto the stage. Murmurs fluctuated through the crowd, and as the shape got closer and closer to the front of the stage, cameras flashed, and phones were lifted high into the air. Moira extended her arms out triumphantly, grinning almost manically, even her normally unenthused persona slipping in the face of what she had accomplished. The "human" stepped up and onto the platform Satya erected, and Angela gasped, covering her mouth, her stomach aching in recollection of the extreme damage her body had endured in the face of a similar being.

It was no human. It wasn't quite an omnic either. With black skin stretched across its features, the humanoid creature waved, a terrifying smile reaching completely across its face. It's glowing, blue eyes scanned the crowd, and they found Angela, a blip of red passing through them before returning to their original colour.

The audience screamed with excitement and encouragement, and inside, Angela wasn't so different, although the emotions associated with the sound couldn't be more opposite.


	41. XLI: Tracer

Tracer

This sensation again. This fear. This disconnect. It was like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. The world was leaving her behind. No matter how far she reached, and no matter how loudly she screamed, she was nothing. Not a girl with dreams. Not a woman with desires. Not a deviant who was told to hide who she was.

Not a hero.

She always knew there was a chance of it happening again. She'd be a fool not to anticipate this exact scenario anytime the blue, glowing hue of her lifeline flickered for any reason. Her entire existence relied on a piece of machinery.

She tried not to think about it.

However, her very persona displayed her anxiety for the more astute. Emily figured it out. Most couldn't. Most were just confused; similarly to the first girl she had ever kissed. Her smile and laugh were known across the organization. She didn't have a choice. She had to be the brightest and loudest and most enthusiastic.

Why?

Because she might never have a chance to do any of it again in a blink of an eye.

* * *

' – ena! Can you hear me? Lena! Athena, vitals check. Please scan brain activity as well.'

A blurry, black mass. A blurry…black…omnic!

Lena shot up, defensively pushing against the soft surface beneath her. She tried to find her guns, but realized she was completely naked. That fact didn't bother her particularly much until she comprehended that it was Winston before her, not the lethal, grotesque omnic she and the rest of Overwatch had been forced to deal with in the latest battle against Talon.

'Winston…!' She exclaimed, pulling at some covers and wrapping them around her like a makeshift dress that didn't feel exactly right.

'Oh, thank goodness! Your chronal accelerator was damaged, and you were suffering from minor chronal disassociation as a result. Fortunately, it somewhat maintained your body enough for me to keep track of your general whereabouts.'

She was in Winston's lab within the main watchpoint tower of Gibraltar. His room and base of operations remained untouched, which meant Talon hadn't successfully infiltrated, thankfully. Lena rubbed her head, her mind obviously still cloudy, and looked to her friend tiredly.

'Thanks again, big guy. I don't think I could ever repay you at this point, huh?'

'You do everyday, Lena. Fighting for Overwatch and supporting me is all I ask. You're my friend, first and foremost, and it's only natural I'd want to save you. I'm not looking for compensation.'

Lena smiled, punching the gorilla lightly in the arm. Her expression went sombre then as the pieces slowly fell into place, illuminating what she wished to know.

'How did it end? What happened to the black omnic? How many did we lose?'

'Talon retreated once the black omnic was dealt with. Your Pulse Bomb stalled the omnic, to a degree, but it wasn't enough. Even a number of E.M.P.s could only slow it down. Honestly, we didn't even manage to destroy it.'

Lena blinked, her head twitching to the side in confusion.

'Reinhardt saved us all, believe it or not. It was quite the sight, I must say. His team, consisting of Lucio, Zenyatta, and a number of other Overwatch agents, appeared out of nowhere, seemingly accelerated by a rather obnoxious song of some descript. Reinhardt had already been updated by Jack, it could be assumed, and no sooner did he see the omnic did he charge with all his might and power, managing to push the monstrosity into the ocean. Hurt himself something terrible doing it, but he saved us all, and is in all his glory right now…although still recovering next to Brigitte.'

'Bloody hell…'

'It was a difficult fight.'

'Well, can't deny that.'

'As for how many we lost, well, it could have been far worse for the scale of the attack. Reinhardt was defending the other side of the base, and according to witnesses, it was quite the sight to see when he and Brigitte fought together. I'm certain she's garnered quite a number of fans now with the way she choregraphed herself alongside our lion of Overwatch. As you know, few could hope to stand side by side with Reinhardt once he truly lets loose, but she was right next to him, defending and pushing back the enemy with extreme talent, or so I heard. It was only because Reaper was among the enemies that they struggled to the degree they did. He managed to break through Brigitte's shield, and nobody could get to her in time before he…'

'Tried to kill her like everything else that gets in his way.' Jack's gruff voice was heard, and Lena whirled to see the man, his arms crossed, and his muscular build covered in scars somewhat revealed in his tight, black t-shirt.

'Jack!' She swallowed tightly. 'Hahah! Got a bit of an eyeful, didn'tcha?'

The man turned from Lean, huffing angrily.

'I…didn't look.'

'Aw. It's fine. Heh.' She refocussed on Winston. 'So, um…what about Amelie?'

'Er…Widowmaker?'

'Yeah.' Lena's stomach flopped. 'I-I mean, she was there, wasn't she? Memory's a little fuzzy, but we even did a little combo attack, right?' As Lena's recollections grew clearer, she found a rather valuable gem among them; that is, when Widow had held her in mid-air, flying through the sky for but a moment together. It was so very brief, but Widow's grip was strong, as expected, and…

'She's locked up until Angela gets back. No visitors except for food.' Jack shifted in place, his tone indicating that he had switched to commander mode and wasn't looking for contention.

A pity Lena was known for her spunk.

'Pardon me, Luv? Last I checked she was fighting like any of us out there.'

'Well, that _was_ true. Surprised me a little, actually.' Winston fidgeted with his glasses.

'She showed her true colours at the end. A Talon agent through and through until we get some work done on her, and I'm not even sure I want to waste the resources anymore.' Jack grunted.

'Okay.' Lena calmed herself, breathing with annoyance. 'I think I'm missin' something. What happened?'

'Ahem. I'll explain.' Winston offered, lifting an enormous hand in Jack's direction to stop him from speaking further. 'You stuck your Pulse Bomb on the black omnic brilliantly, but he damaged your chronal accelerator, and you began fluctuating after a moment or two. You became like a static image, really. Widowmaker dropped down and protected you from the blast you could no longer get away from, and when she arose – rather hurt, from what I could tell – she appeared to lose her mind, and attacked anyone within sight, primarily gunning for McCree, Jack, and myself. By this point, you couldn't be found with ease, and it was Ana who managed to put Widowmaker to sleep for enough time to get her restrained. Reinhardt's courageous attack brought the battle to a swift end shortly thereafter.'

'No…' Lena covered her mouth.

'Everyone agreed it was time to take more drastic steps with Widowmaker. She killed one of our men, and severely injured Jesse and Winston. She's in maximum security now. Athena has been told to let nobody in without the permission of two Grandmasters.' Jack added.

'I'm not _that_ injured.' Winston rotated one of his arms and cracked his neck.

'I'm sorry she did that, really, but you can't lock her up!' Lena began frantically. 'I was _just_ beginning to get through to her! She was fighting _with_ us! You both saw it!'

There was a beat, and Lena hoped Winston would support her, but even he could only scratch his face anxiously.

'No matter how powerful the gun, I'd never use one that could potentially fire back at me. Never. I'd destroy it. No questions asked.' Jack responded, and Lena's gut hurt. 'You saw what we're up against. Talon has gotten stronger. They've created a line of omnics we can't easily contend with anymore. There's no more time to flirt with a damn killer.'

'I ain't flirting!'

'Then what the hell do you call it?' Jack raised his voice.

'Now, now…' Winston tried, but he was cut off.

'She's broken! Not even Angela thinks she can fix her! If that's not discouragement enough then I don't know what is! No more! She killed one of our own! I won't let another one die because of your insistence on playing in fantasy land!'

'She's not like Gabe, Jack! She didn't _choose_ to join Talon!'

Lena knew it was a cheap shot, and Jack physically buckled at the blow, but he shook his head, gritting his teeth.

'Enough!' Winston finally intervened aggressively, growling as he spoke. 'This is not the time to be arguing amongst ourselves. I've already communicated our status to Angela and Fareeha. Neither have responded yet, but once they do, I'll have an estimation for when Widowmaker might get another examination. Angela is willing to proceed with the surgery, as far as I can tell, so, please bear with the situation until then, Lena.'

'…Fine.' Lena mumbled. 'But I need to talk to her.'

'Why?' Jack barked.

'Because I'm sure I got through to her a little bit, and she can't think I'm gone for good.'

'Feh.' Jack sighed.

'You read her report, didn't you?' Lena snapped.

'…I did.'

'Then what the bloody hell is your problem?'

'I have a problem when _anybody_ hurts my team.'

'Huh. Then it's a small wonder you seem so angry with yourself these days, innit?' Lena exited the building without turning back. She was the sun of Overwatch, but even the sun could turn red and scorch the earth on a whim. She cared deeply about Jack; about everyone in Overwatch, yet she wouldn't allow Widowmaker – Amelie – to revert to the cold-blooded killer she herself was so afraid of.

It had finally stopped raining, but the base was still soaked, and many an Overwatch agent was busy with repairs and cleaning up the wreckage caused by Talon's attack. Lena noted the damage from Reinhardt's charge. The man had literally destroyed the earth from dragging the omnic to its watery prison. There was no way Reinhardt wouldn't be injured from the feat. Even with the boosting from his armour and hammer, and even with his insane, monstrous strength, moving the tank of an omnic couldn't have been easy for the elderly man no longer in his prime. And poor Brigitte. Her maiden battle and she had to contend with Reaper. She was lucky to be alive.

Lena would normally offer a helping hand to the various agents at work or, at the very least, say "hello", but she had quite the shoddy cover over her naked form, and storming out on Winston and Jack may have been a touch foolish considering her circumstances. Still, it was nighttime, and she knew the base well enough to stealthily make it to her quarters with minimum contact. Lena changed into some sweatpants, and a t-shirt that hung off her right shoulder. She then decided she had some stops to make before finally hitting the hay no matter how tempting her bed looked right then and there.

* * *

Lena placed her I.D. against the security mechanism deep within Overwatch Gibraltar. The screen hesitated, but then flashed red, notifying Athena of someone's attempt.

"This lock requires the verbal acknowledgement of two Grandmasters or more to grant access. Subject Widowmaker currently in holding. Threat level: lethal. I repeat…"

Lena rolled her eyes. She was sort of hoping Jack was bluffing, but obviously Winston supported the decision, because the appropriate changes had been made to the A.I. that partially governed the base. Something of a pickle.

'Yeah. So, um, I'm a Grandmaster and all, right? Maybe just let me on in, Athena? I've been assigned as Widow's caretaker, after all.'

"…Denied. Two Grandmaster vocal and or I.D. registrations not confirmed. This lock requires the verbal and or I.D. acknowledgment of two – "

"I'll allow it." Winston's voice suddenly interjected over the intercom, and Lena's eyes widened.

'Winston!'

"I'm sorry about Jack, Lena. He's just worried, and it's understandable. You didn't see what she did. It was quite frightening."

'I know what she's capable of, but if I don't see her, like, right now, we could lose her forever.'

"And that's why I'm trusting you with this. We have a lot of work to do in the coming weeks, and there won't be much time left to dedicate to Widowmaker. I'm sorry, Lena, but I'll need your abilities on the field."

Lena nodded to herself, knowing her friend was being anything but unreasonable.

'Roger…'

"Access granted." Athena chimed, pressure released around the perimeter of the door while multiple latches came undone and miniature computers beeped.

"Good luck." Winston said with finality.

'Thanks, big guy.'

Lena entered the cell, and she sighed deeply, searching for a moment until she found Widow curled up in the corner on a dishevelled bed, holding her legs close so her face remained hidden. It broke her heart. They had made so much progress, and yet, the tragic assassin ended up in such a place regardless. Lena opened her mouth to speak, but marks on the dimly lit, cement ground gave her pause. There were eight thin streaks of blood, and the trail faded the closer it got to the tiny bed Widow remained upon. As Lena drew herself to the woman, she could see her hair was in complete disarray, and her shirt was practically ripped to shreds.

'Hey, Luv.' Lena spoke softly, but there was no response. She sat on the bed, the cushioning rather hard, and edged in a little. 'It's me. Lena. Or Tracer. Whatever you wanna call me. You in there?'

Widow's index finger twitched, and she finally moved, her head ever so slowly tipping up so that her piercingly yellow eyes could find Lena. Once both women's gazes crossed, Widow snapped forward, grabbing Lena by the throat and crashing onto the floor with her. Lena grunted, fighting back, but physically outmatched, as she knew. She noticed Widow's shock necklace had been removed, for whatever reason, and panicked then, having no real way of handling her current dilemma effectively. Recalling was an option, she supposed, but she didn't want to startle Widow further by causing a blip in her reality.

Fortunately, Widow's grip relaxed abruptly, and her face contorted, the pain wreathing through her mind, body, and soul clear. The sniper whimpered pathetically, and cowered back, returning to her corner and whispering something to herself in French.

'Go…' She sobbed. 'Leave me.'

'Now when has that worked for you with me, huh, Luv?' Lena patted her throat.

'I killed one of you. I hurt many more. I _wanted_ to. I couldn't stop myself. Just…go.'

'Not happening.' Lena sat close to Widow. 'You saved my life, from what I hear, Luv. Wrecked your clothes because of that stunt.'

'A life for a life…But I owe more than I could ever give. Even now…I resist the urge to hurt you. I wish to. Oh, I truly do. These walls could be covered in your blood. A-ah…' Widow groaned, gripping her stomach. 'But I shall not.'

Lena reached over and touched Widow's face, her cheeks sticky from dried tears. She was an utter mess, and yet, somehow, she was so very, very beautiful. Her teeth chattered. Her body was shaking. Her hair hung in her face savagely. The woman jerked back, but then Lena crept in more, awkwardly pushing past the invisible barrier Widow attempted to enforce.

'Your skin is chilly all the time, huh?'

'I have no warmth to give.'

'Your dancing might prove you wrong. Got me real heated, to be honest.'

'…It doesn't matter. I have been adequately placed. I don't wish to leave here.'

Lena bit at the inside of her mouth.

'Well, I happen not to believe that.'

A long pause, and Lena wasn't sure what to do anymore. She had gotten in to see Widow, at the very least, but what did she say now? She couldn't get her out; even Lena knew that. Angela would have to perform the surgery first…if either woman even wanted to follow through with such a risk. Lena pushed her hands through her hair, giving Widow a bit of space, and then the other girl's seductive voice emerged anew.

'I'm lost…' She admitted, and Lena's ears perked.

'What do you mean, Luv?'

Another lengthy pause, and Widow meekly went on.

'I feel…empty. I feel hopeless. I…want to kill, but I'm terrified of the voices. Your presence…troubles me; it always has. Your light is blinding. It…hurts. You look at me with such…honest endearment, and I shudder to think I could ever deserve a fragment of what you're willing to give.'

Lena swallowed, knives prickling her throat. Amelie was speaking now. Her whole demeanor changed. This was a woman of status who bore witness to her life being raped before her very eyes. She had nothing left save for the blood on her hands and the ache in her womb. She _was_ broken, but in a way few could ever grasp. Lena wiped tears from her own eyes, and then hesitated not a moment longer, wrapping her arms around Amelie's trembling form and bringing her as close as she would allow.

'I'm here, Luv. I'm…right here.' Lena could only repeat, unsure of what she was even trying to say. 'There's always hope. Angela thinks she can fix you, and if you want, we can do just that, right?'

The room went silent, and Lena instinctively held Amelie tighter, as if attempting to muffle what the woman was going to say next.

'No.' She murmured coldly; almost emotionlessly. 'No more experiments. No more tampering. No more. I am beyond repair. There…is hardly a point.'

Lena grit her teeth. Despair. Pure, utter despair. Amelie was succumbing to the end of her will. She couldn't find a reason to fight anymore. She was giving up entirely. And with this realization, Lena's chest collapsed into itself, and she lost her mind.

'No point? No point!?' Lena took Amelie's face between her hands and felt her heart fly into her neck as she met the other woman's lips with her own, pushing into the haphazard kiss until Amelie's mouth finally gave just slightly, enough for Lena to make the exchange not a complete failure, but still alarmingly close to one.

'I…I care about you, got it? I tried to stop myself, but…Bloody hell. I-I know you think it's "unnatural", or whatever, but that's that! _I_ want you to live. _I_ want to be with you. _I_ want to…to make you happy! Even if we're nothing more than friends, I _know_ I can help you, Amelie! You deserve to find joy again, and I'm not going anywhere until you do!'

Amelie touched her bottom lip, evidently stunned to the point of being unable to speak adequately well.

'S-sorry. That was daft. And dumb. And…God. I panicked!'

'Hmph…' Amelie finally chuckled a little. 'You are…ever the force, little girl. I continue to ask "why?", but I suppose that has been somewhat answered at last. To think all your jesting held some truth to it.'

This was good. She was talking. She was engaged. Lena didn't care that she had made a complete fool of herself; at least the conversation was progressing to some degree.

'I…kinda realized it, like, really recently, I guess? It's a crush, I think. I don't really know. B-but…yeah. S'pose it was bound to happen, what with all the time I've spent with you and…and you're so bloody gorgeous.'

Amelie shook her head with a smirk.

'Even now? I'm in shambles.'

'Truthfully? There's something really sexy about it…although I hate that you feel so messed up. It's why I basically forced my way in here. I knew you would have a hard time with all this.'

' _Unbelievable_.' Amelie mumbled in her French accent.

'What?'

Amelie narrowed her gaze, her already sharp eyes even more provocative.

'If you're only doing all this out of sexual desire then I see no choice but to be completely truthful with you.' She breathed slowly, but was at least showing more signs of life than before. 'I am not interested, little girl. True, I perhaps see some value in your companionship; I'll admit that much, but that is where any form of relationship begins and ends. I do not wish to engage in _any_ semblance of intimacy with you. That simply won't change. Thus, some perspective was hopefully obtained here tonight.'

Lena didn't want to admit it, but something like a sucker-punch did nail her in the stomach, and she tried to laugh it all off.

'Right. I mean, you've been clear this whole time, really. Well, except for that dance thing. Got my heart just racing there, didn't ya?'

Amelie's cheeks changed shade just slightly as she glanced away.

'My dancing has such an affect even on me. That is all. It is the language of love. I was enraptured by the craft I thought lost.'

Lena sighed distantly, her face buzzing.

'Then maybe live for that, Luv. Ballet, innit? Get back at it! You're really good! And, um, Gerard liked it lots, too, right? Do it for him as well. Like, in memory of him and stuff.'

Amelie's eyes flickered, and she eventually nodded ever so slowly.

'That…wouldn't be a terrible concept to consider.'

'Just don't give up. Please.'

'Because you "care" about me?'

'Yeah.' Lena answered clearly, making Amelie flinch back subtly. 'But also because you seriously deserve a shot at happiness after what you've been through. That was the main reason I started wanting to help you in the first place. The fact I would totally make sweet love to you given the chance is a new thing, and I'll just forget about _that_ pretty fantasy altogether right here and now! Boom! Gone!' Lena expressively motioned with her hands to indicate an explosion.

' _Goodness gracious._ ' Amelie muttered, giving Lena a small, sideways look. 'You would honestly perform such an act with me if I gave my consent? Truly?'

'Oh, Luv, in a bloody heartbeat; especially now that I'm kinda getting to know the real you.'

Amelie shook her head in confusion, but said nothing more about the topic, which Lena knew she shouldn't take as a hopeful turn of events, but felt a little turn of her heart regardless.

'Anyway, I'm going to do something about this living situation. You don't deserve it. I'll get you back in the lab or something. If we keep you restrained all should be well, right?'

'…Yes. That would be fine.'

'It might take a sec. I'm thinkin' tomorrow at some point, but I'll keep in touch, kay?'

'Yes.'

'Get some sleep here, at least. Bet you're tired.'

'Yes…'

'I'll be back; promise.'

'Yes.'

'Kiss before I go?'

'…No.'

'Aw! Almost had you!'

'Not even close, little girl.'

Lena lingered, but eventually pushed off the bed, sauntering to the door. Amelie was likely done with her. She had overstayed her welcome. She had also made an idiot of herself with this silly frustration and ridiculous crush.

'Tracer…' Amelie stopped sharply. 'L-Lena.' She corrected herself, lowering her face to hide in the shadows.

'Yeah?'

'…Thank-you. I've…I owe much to you.'

'Hah! Well, we both know how you can pay me back, right?'

Amelie bit at her lip, her voice quiet.

'I'll…give it some thought. Perhaps…if it's only once, then I'm sure I could…'

Lena saw the way Amelie shrunk, and then she waved her hands, flustered, excited, and embarrassed all at once.

'No, no, no! T-that's not what I meant! I just meant I want you to be happy. That's all. That's how I know I've helped.'

There was a strange, uncanny silence between the two women, and then Lena dismissed herself with a quick "goodbye", praying she could follow through with her promise. She rested her back on the door to Amelie's cell, and breathed out shakily, her mind in a frenzy. She was having difficulty thinking straight, likely due to her fatigue and sudden arousal that had finally reached a terrible peak.

'Athena,' Lena patched herself through to the A.I. 'What's Reinhardt and Brigitte's status?'

"Both stabilized and currently sleeping. E.T.A. for full recovery ranges between a week to three."

Lena had had every intention of visiting her close comrades, but knew awaking them while they attempted to rest off some of the pain wouldn't be wise. There was nothing for it, and thus, Lena sent a quick message to Jack and Winston outlining her plea for Amelie before finally returning to her private quarters.

Lena turned on a small red lava lamp next to her bed, took a large drink of water, washed her face, and collapsed into her mattress. As she lay, instant sleep tickling her mind suggestively, Lena's hand reached into her pants, and she moaned immediately, having reached a certain level of desire the instant Amelie showed just the slightest hint of giving into Lena's wishes.

'A-ah…' Lena squeaked cutely, her spunky attitude reduced to an overly "girly" submission when interacting with herself or giving in to another in such a way.

Lena tried to place Amelia's hand over her own, envisioning what it would be like to feel the French woman touching her, stroking her, pinching her, and entering her in a variety of imaginative ways.

'Ngh…T-there…' She went on, picturing Amelie looking up from between her legs.

It was too much. Lena's hips raised slightly in the air, rocking up and down as she found her own special place within herself and massaged it aggressively. It was the perfect release to a day full of highs and lows. She needed to ground herself, and she knew by restricting her actions she had only made it worse for Amelie with all the implied talk. The poor woman had enough on her plate, and having the one person she almost trusted to some extent come on to her simply wasn't fair.

But that didn't stop Lena from using her imagination, and utilized it she did. She closed her eyes, biting down on her lower lip, and listened to her own voice moan and groan, her rhythm increasing with every motion until she kicked off her sweatpants and lifted her shirt over her small, perky breasts, massaging them with her free hand while her other supplied the primary source of pleasure.

'Amelie…' Lena hummed, her octave shifting even higher. 'Oh…o-oh…'

At least, after this, she could think a little more clearly around Amelie. She would remain professional from here on. Lena wouldn't deny admiring the woman's beauty from afar, but she wouldn't put her in any more awkward situations. The kiss was too much. What was she thinking? But, then again, it _did_ seem to snap Amelie out of her abyss of torment.

Her lips…were so full and plump. Oh, to feel those lips all over her body. Lena had never experienced such luscious, delicious lips.

'Hah…a-ah…' She was getting very close. Her stomach was pinching pleasantly, and her groin ached lovingly. Her pace quickened, and Lena's hips were swaying furiously, destroying her sheets messily.

'Amelie…Amelie…Em…E-Emily…'

Lena faltered at the thought of her ex, but realigned her pent up frustration and simply shifted her fantasy world so that both Emily _and_ Amelie were engaged with her. Emily's slender, slightly freckled body and her tender, considerate kisses paired with Amelie's otherworldly proportions and tiny waist. They took turns consuming Lena's bodily fluids, and then kissed in front of her, knowing it would send her into oblivion. Their mouths meshed together, saliva and more oozing between their tongues and lips. They began touching one another, seductively staring at Lena as they did so while she went about her personal business.

' _Ah…B-bloody hell…! Ahh…! A-ahh…!_ '

There was no possible way she could hold it in any more. Lena's eyes rolled back, and she gasped over and over, spasms making her hips twitch and her body convulse in conjunction with the release. She collapsed into her bed, completely drained, her climax quite different from ever before in a very, very good way. She breathed out, calming her lungs, and ripped off her shirt, finding more comfort in being completely naked than partially dressed.

"Vocal volume of agent Tracer, a.k.a. Lena Oxton, exceeded pre-set parameters. Checking on agent's status prior to sending aid."

'I-I'm fine, Athena.' Lena groaned in embarrassment.

"Very good. Rest well, agent."

'God…' Lena turned over, mashing her face into her pillow. 'Well, that just happened.'


	42. XLII: Pharah

Pharah

She squinted a little as she tapped her fingers across the little screen, rather dexterous with how she got the information down. Angela was obviously used to working with her phone for business purposes, although she seemed to pick up speed by the second, as if her brain recalled how reliant she was on the little device now that she was out of areas with little to no reception.

'Don't mind me. I'm simply making notes of what we witnessed today. I don't want to miss a detail.' She encouraged gently.

Fareeha nodded, and then awkwardly met Mei's eyes, the young scientist eating an ice cream cone she had purchased from one of the many vendors located around the venue. The three women and Snowball were seated at a dining area meant for relaxation and recuperation. They sat deep within the little rest stop to avoid Angela being bothered by the never-ending supply of admirers and rivals she had. It was getting late in the day, with the overly bright sun casting a deep red-hued blanket across everything. Thankfully, although the intensity of the sun was very real, the ground throughout Oasis had a temperature regulator, and thus, a form of conditioning took place to make for more comfort while traveling anywhere within the city. Not only that, but there was also a thin, clear barrier that reduced how intensely the sun could influence the populace, making for further comfort without sacrificing the beauty of nature's most important star.

'What did you think of the presentation, Mei?' Fareeha attempted, doubtful she would be able to keep up with Mei's analysis as well as Angela.

'Which one?' She swallowed, a bit of chocolate ice cream lingering around her pouty lips for but a second before Snowball dealt with the mess promptly.

'Dr. Moira O'Deorain's, I suppose.'

'Oh, right. I guess that was the biggest reveal, wasn't it? Oasis has been analyzing that black stuff for a while now, from what I read, so, it's fascinating how they found a use for it and everything. I don't really get the point though. Omnics are omnics and humans are humans. Why would one want to be the other? Other than super strength and intelligence or something. Omnics are pretty strong, and they can perform calculations as fast as a computer. Hmm…I'd rather have used the stuff to help the environment somehow; not make an omnic look more human. Kinda creepy, really.'

'It's just a ruse for what the black matter actually perpetuates.' Angela muttered wistfully.

'Oh?' Mei perked up.

'Jack and I confronted one such omnic in St. Petersburg. We barely escaped with our lives. I assume it was a prototype of some form, but even then, its strength and endurance were otherworldly. Now that I have ascertained where the raw materials likely stemmed from to create an omnic of such ability, pieces of this puzzle settle into place sufficiently.'

'Oh, my goodness!' Mei covered her mouth, and Snowball beeped about some.

'My apologies. I'm not quite finished yet.' Angela shook her head, going back to work.

'Interesting…' Mei pondered.

'It is safe to assume that Talon will be attempting to create an army of omnics that have such destructive capability. Pair that with the threat of the God Program manifesting once more across the globe and there could be a crisis like nothing before in the horizon.' Fareeha spoke aloud, and Mei nodded.

'Overwatch could shut down another Omnic Crisis, but if Talon has become as powerful as I am beginning to suspect, there could be some major complications; especially without the U.N.'s support right from the start.'

'Exactly. Overwatch is weaker than it was before. It's founding members are older, and there aren't enough new recruits that have the talent and training to replace the original agents. I consider myself a strong woman, but when compared to the best Overwatch has to offer, even I am average at best. The world has softened since the original crisis, I think. It spells disaster for our future unless we can stop the war from breaking out to begin with.' Fareeha felt her heart quicken. She had always wanted to join Overwatch, but was she prepared for what that meant exactly now in the present day? Everything was different. They weren't heroes; they were vigilantes.

'Precisely.' Angela pocketed her phone and leaned back in her chair, taking a small drink of water. 'The last thing Overwatch wants is a threefold fight between Talon, omnics, and itself. The Omnic Crisis still leaves marks all over the world, and it's far too soon for _anything_ like that to occur again. Humanity might not recover this time.'

'So…' Mei drawled on. 'What are you going to do?'

Angela found Fareeha's eyes, and then she sighed deeply.

'I need to meet with Moira. If I can uncover anything about what she's planning, then Overwatch is all the better for it. My original mission was to dig up any information I can about Talon's motives and ambitions. I've already accumulated some useful bits, but directly accessing the source would prove beneficial, surely.'

'Is that safe?' Fareeha asked.

'Well, even if it isn't, I always have you, don't I?' She smiled, and Fareeha worked to conceal her cheeks from flushing.

'True. I best earn my keep.'

'Aw.' Mei giggled. 'You're flirting right in front of me. How nice.' And she took a big bite of her ice cream.

* * *

Mei eventually returned to her panel, suggesting that she might begin getting into contact with the U.N., claiming her work enabled her some form of credit amongst the nations' most influential figures. She didn't sound especially confident, but she felt it was worth a shot, at the very least. Angela gave her regards, and told Mei she would help in any way she could considering she too wasn't exactly a nobody in the "world's" eyes either. Being former agents of Overwatch could stain their names slightly, but their clean record since then might mitigate the damage enough to catch _someone's_ attention.

'She was a pleasant girl.' Fareeha appraised once she and Angela began walking about the convention again. Many of the panels were wrapping up by this point, but that certainly didn't mean the events were over; not by a long shot. Presentations were planned throughout the majority of the day, and one highlight in the itinerary sparked Fareeha's interest, although she wasn't sure how to integrate its possibility into the current conversation.

'Mei is honest almost to a fault. But she always means well, and I pray she remains safe until reuniting with everyone back at base. I, at the very least, have her contact information now.'

'Good.'

'In any case, we best check in to the banquet relatively soon. I understand it doesn't start for a couple of hours, but I know how such things go, and pre-emptively solidifying our place within the ranks will not be a disservice.'

Fareeha's ears prickled. It was the very event she had been wanting to attend. As much as she tried, she truly couldn't get into any of the panels or presentations occurring in Oasis. Some of the engineering scientists were at least a little intriguing to her, but Fareeha has always been someone who was much more comfortable actively engaging in something; not merely listening to theories and the like. She had to stifle her yawns, knowing this was all within Angela's field on some level, and wanting to be involved somehow.

However, a banquet sounded fun. It would almost be like a date, in many ways. Dining with Angela was always enjoyable, and the event stated that live music would be present as well. Although Fareeha wasn't the best of dancers, she appreciated music in all its forms mostly, and couldn't help picturing holding Angela close and swaying to a gentle tune together.

'Oh? Did I catch a sparkle in your eye just now? Are we finally not bored?' Angela poked Fareeha's side, and she twitched from the contact.

'So, I failed in concealing my lack of understanding in most cases?'

'Just a smidge.' Angela laughed.

'I'm sorry. I know you thrive in this environment, but – '

'Did I appear to be having fun, Fareeha?'

Fareeha blinked, thinking back to how little Angela had actively engaged in any of the panels, really.

'Hm. I'm not sure now.'

'I certainly find this setting not entirely sleep-inducing, but my focus has shifted since my youth. If anything, I carry a certain amount of bitterness toward such events due to the fact I feel many of these "theories" to be dead ends or wastes of time when so much more could be done in the world using these very brilliant minds looking down upon others in their ivory towers. It's frustrating.'

'I can see that.' Fareeha agreed.

'The only true reason I even agreed to this mission was because you'd be with me. Your presence makes nearly anything tolerable, I'll have you know.'

Fareeha reached for Angela's hand at the comment, and the doctor accepted it, squeezing back tightly as they walked toward the grand hall, entering a rather massive building full of even more people. Fareeha tickled the skin between Angela's index finger and thumb, loving the way Angela's smaller hand felt in her own.

'I feel the same, Angela. This mission has been a gift, more than anything.'

'Because of what transpired last night?'

'E-er…partially, I suppose. But mostly just being able to spend time with you. Like this. I can feel others' gaze upon you, but they hesitate to make any sort of move. A wise choice.'

'Would you become frightfully jealous if I was openly courted?' Angela teased, but Fareeha willingly took the bait.

'I would lose my composure, I think.'

'Heh. Not a terrible picture; especially in my name.'

'Please don't test me. I've become hopelessly possessive. Just the thought hurts my chest.'

'Trust me, Fareeha. I hardly have the intent. I can barely stand most conversations with average individuals much less those attempting to flirt with me. I'm much too old and tired for the game.'

'Stop saying you're old.'

'But I am, theoretically. A woman on the other side of thirty-five is understandably considered past her prime. How do you stand dating such a grandmother? It's quite baffling.'

Honestly, Fareeha hated discussing age. It was a reminder that her time was finite, and that meant her time with Angela was just as limited. A life without this woman at her side was terrifying. How quickly and perfectly their lives had melded together as if they were always meant to. How did Fareeha live without this woman? It physically hurt to think about.

'I wish…I had the courage to talk to you more when I was younger.' Fareeha admitted, thinking back to the seldom interactions she _had_ had with the angel of Overwatch in her youth.

'Heheh! You were quite adorable, Fareeha, but the age gap meant much more back then.'

'True…' Fareeha agreed. 'Maybe when I was twenty or so. Would you have considered me a potential partner at that point?'

'Hmm…' Angela tapped her chin, she and Fareeha moving in a line now to sign in to the banquet and receive their seat numbers. 'I don't think so. Friends, perhaps, but not lovers. We became close at just the right time, I suspect. I was ready to entertain a relationship with another woman, for I was beginning to fathom how short one's life could be quite suddenly. I have grown much more bold and selfish. I'm not sure I am proud of the old bat I'm turning into.'

'Angela.'

'I'm sorry. The face you make is priceless.' Angela laughed into her hand, releasing Fareeha's, to the younger woman's dismay. She decided to punish the doctor, leaning in close and brushing Angela's ear with her lips.

'The body I became intimately familiar with last night was that of a woman of twenty at most. My fingers still throb with how tightly you clenched them.'

' _Fareeha, you cur!_ ' Angela exclaimed in German, gaining the attention of some of the other individuals in line. Her face turned instantly red, and she pretended to hit Fareeha on the shoulder.

'Heheh. You asked for it.'

'I certainly did not!'

'Next!' An individual at the counter called out, and Fareeha escorted a rather flustered Angela to sign their names for the banquet to be. As she did so, Fareeha watched her elegant hand stroke an elaborate quill across the page, her pasty-white skin gleaming and glowing within her gorgeously pearl dress. One of the flowers on her headband had come loose, and when Angela stood up straight again, Fareeha pulled her to the side and drew in close, fixing the accessary gently. Angela smiled up at her, the woman's blue eyes like a perfectly serene body of water, and Fareeha grinned widely, wanting to kiss her passionately, but resisting the inevitable spectacle she would create.

'I love you.' She said suddenly, surprising herself. But Angela seemingly gushed, placing her hands on Fareeha's chest and almost touching her nose to the taller woman's.

'I'm in love with you too, Fareeha.' She replied with such confidence and affection that there was no room for doubt in Fareeha's mind.

She would value every singular second with this girl. She would take more pictures. She would write down her thoughts. She would treat every day she had with Angela Ziegler as a gift, and treasure them evermore. She wanted no regrets. She wanted to lift Angela up and hold her constantly. "Love" seemed like a cheap word for what Fareeha felt, but she would settle for it at this moment, an idea forming that she might explore later.

'What?' Fareeha asked, noting the way Angela's eyes flickered oddly.

'Nothing…' She sighed. 'I just…I believe you.'

'I hope so!' Fareeha laughed, but Angela nodded solemnly, progressing her thought.

'Let's relax a little before the banquet, shall we? I need to make some preparations.'

And Angela stepped away almost abruptly. Was it just the way she acted sometimes? Fareeha prayed that's all it could possibly be.

* * *

It wasn't long before Fareeha was amongst many other finely dressed individuals – humans and omnics alike – entering a rather impressive hall with tables, chairs, and perfectly spaced stations of food and drinks. It was late evening by the time she and Angela were embracing the last moments of the convention. They would stay another night, and then depart for Overwatch Gibraltar the following day. Thus far, Fareeha had performed her duty with ease. If anything, Fareeha almost felt _she_ should be the one owing Overwatch compensation for this outing, for the amount of pleasure she had obtained throughout the duration of the "mission" couldn't be matched by anything Fareeha had experienced in her life up until this very moment.

Soft, string-heavy music played by a live band set the mood, with lighting that painted a pale glow within open space. The colour scheme of the room could change within a second, mostly cool colours being used to illuminate the beautiful furniture and guests; whites, blues, and blacks the main choice of cascading prisms similar to that of the chandeliers above.

'So much money put into a singular event. What a waste.' Angela mumbled.

Fareeha felt bad for simply thinking how lovely the doctor looked considering their setting, and shook her head as she received Angela by pulling out her chair and tucking her in. Fareeha seated herself, and adjusted her collar, her cleavage still surprising her anytime she looked down.

The two women were soon joined by a number of other guests, all of them knowing Angela by her full name and accomplishments. Small talk ensued, and Fareeha felt bad, for she couldn't relieve Angela much of the engagement. She really _was_ talked at rather than to, and it frustrated the bodyguard extensively, knowing how charming the woman beneath the scientist was. She thought about interrupting many times, throwing out a detail about the very human person aside from "Dr. Ziegler", but hesitated due to the fact she knew Angela herself might disapprove. She was a grown woman, and had taken care of herself until this point, hadn't she?

Eventually, Mei fumbled her way to the table, changed into what appeared to be a traditional Chinese dress that did little to conceal her voluptuous body like her earlier outfit could. Her breasts, in particular, were distractingly large, and she had applied some makeup, successfully transforming herself into a rather attractive young woman.

'Heya! Looks like we got lucky, huh?' Mei greeted everyone, but was obviously speaking to Angela and Fareeha primarily.

'Indeed!' Angela clapped a little.

'Allow me.' Fareeha helped Mei into her chair, and the girl giggled to herself.

'How chivalric!'

'Isn't she?' Angela agreed with pride.

'Fareeha Amari, are you not?' One of the guests at the table commented at last, acknowledging Fareeha as more than Angela's accessary. She was an older woman, but had a certain amount of elegance to her, her heritage perhaps Italian based on her accent.

'Yes.' Fareeha nodded.

'Oh! Ana Amari's daughter? I _thought_ you looked familiar. That woman was a legend back when Overwatch was active! She was quite beautiful as well, I might add.' A rather obese man contributed.

'She was…very talented, yes.' Fareeha now knew precisely how Angela felt. How could so many individuals be looking through her at once? It was uncanny.

Fortunately, the evening's festivities officially started with a master of ceremonies taking the stage. It was the same "omnic" that Moira had put on display, and the sight of it sent chills through Fareeha's spine. It moved in a frightfully human way, and when it began speaking, a mouth actually moved, the insides of his mechanical form glimmering in the spotlight above him.

'Ladies and gentlemen, omnics and everyone in between, welcome to the sixth official Oasis Convention of Progressive Science. I am your host, Tobias, but some of you may remember me as the gorgeous model Dr. Moira O'Deorain presented just hours ago. Shall we give her a round of applause for spearheading the improvements made on my physical form?'

It was unsettling at best. Even "Tobias'" voice was more human, lacking the distinct mechanical echo that subtly invaded any and all omnic communication. If Fareeha hadn't seen this being prior, would she even be able to tell easily that he was, at his core, an omnic? The black substance stretched across his body was the only obvious indicator, really, beyond his glowing eyes.

'Hm.' Angela stood up, and was joined by many others, but she was staring directly at Moira, and Fareeha was quite certain the rival doctor was meeting that gaze, her posture perfect and still as she nodded slowly in response to the appreciation sent her way.

Tobias went on, describing the timeline for the evening, and Angela shuffled in close to Fareeha, speaking softly into her ear.

'I've arranged a meeting with her.' She claimed, and Fareeha recoiled a bit.

'Just from that?'

'You noticed?'

'You rarely focus so intently on someone.'

'Ah, true. The last person to spark the need was you, I suppose.'

Fareeha restrained her smile.

'Are you certain?'

'I am. Don't leave my side when we meet. It'll likely happen much later, but we'll both know when she's ready. We'll have to humour her whims, for she certainly won't be ordered around by me, that's for sure.'

'I see…' Fareeha's lip twitched.

'…Dr. Angela Ziegler, who has been quite busy, from what we know!' Tobias indicated Angela's table, and a spotlight went over her. She had a brief moment of confusion, but then stood up, waving delicately as another applause erupted, this one notably a little louder than Moira's.

' _Damn it._ ' Angela cursed, sitting back down.

'What's wrong?' Fareeha inquired, Tobias continuing his job with relative ease in the background.

'She's clever enough. By drawing attention to me she's guaranteed I remain preoccupied for most of the evening with colleagues wishing to speak with me. It's going to be a long night. Then, perhaps mentally fatigued, she will humour my desire to speak with her. I need to be at my best when engaging with Moira, otherwise, the conversation might prove fruitless.'

'You think she would do such a thing?' Fareeha wondered.

'She would. It's politically competent. She doesn't deny me my wish to speak with her, but avoids potentially divulging any important information by easily directing our words.'

'Then I will earn my keep by filtering your guests. Will that work?'

Angela placed a hand on Fareeha's thigh under the table, moving it upward until it dipped slightly into her groin as she looked up at her with a seductive gaze.

'I would much rather just spend all night with you, Fareeha Amari.' She said quite assuredly before returning back to a proper position in her chair.

The feeling was mutual, of course, but Fareeha needed to calm herself from the sudden arousal, fixing the bottom of her outfit and clearing her throat, noticing that Mei was shaking her head in a mixture of embarrassment and jealousy, perhaps? Fortunately, the rest of the table had been engaged with what Tobias was saying, and that was that.

* * *

At least the food was good. It was done in a buffet style, which meant Fareeha could load her plate up with as much as she wanted. By this point in the evening, she was relatively hungry, so, she didn't hold back as she tried two different kinds of pasta, buns, vegetables, fish, potatoes, and salad on the side. Angela had been quick to tease her, but it was par for the course by this point, and Fareeha took it all in stride.

The table's conversation centered mostly around Tobias and how uncanny his mannerisms were when compared to that of a human's. The various guests speculated what it would be like to not be capable of telling humans and omnics apart. It was an interesting notion, really, but one that didn't strike Fareeha as exceptionally riveting. Thus, she finished her meal and dismissed herself, going to the deserts and picking at the pretty looking pastries and such. She found some cute little jello shots, and decided it would be fun to share a few with Angela, if she so desired to partake.

As Fareeha placed a couple of cupcakes upon her miniature plate as well, a man made a sound beside her, and when she looked to see who had gotten somewhat close, a knot formed in her throat, and she audibly gasped, almost dropping her plate.

'Josiah!' She uttered after a moment, and the tall, well-built man laughed, his handsome jawline strapped by perfectly groomed facial hair. His curly, black locks hung about his pleasing head attractively, and the shaved sides only amplified how distracting of a specimen this man was for his sex.

'Fareeha. Imagine my shock when I saw your pretty face sitting next to Doctor Angela Ziegler, of all people!'

His grey eyes barely attempted to avoid Fareeha's chest, and she lightly tugged at the opening of her dress in response. Josiah still had a deep scar lining the right side of his cheek, but beyond that, he stood over 6'4", and was in the army alongside Fareeha for quite some time. He always talked big; stating he would be in the special forces one day. It was alluring to Fareeha at the time, and it was the tipping point for when he had asked her out on a date. He still had a dazzling smile that could make any girl's toes curl, and he carried himself with such charisma and confidence it was sometimes hard to look away.

But then Fareeha recalled the way he had finished with her, nonchalantly lighting a cigarette and commenting on her body's "tightness", the act lasting barely longer than five minutes, and Fareeha being completely confused with what the point of it all was.

Indeed, Josiah had been her first. To see him here, of all places, was a cruel twist of Fate's hand.

'I'm looking after her during the convention, yes.'

'Good for you. Guess we both got some important doctors to keep an eye on.'

'Oh?' Fareeha gave a quick glance around.

'Heh. I'm at the head table there with the guest of honour, although she looks as miserable as ever, even with all this food around. Maybe she's pissed that the old fogeys running this joint aren't even here. Whatever. A job's a job.'

Fareeha spotted Moira, and she _did_ appear a little agitated and bored.

'You're…a mercenary now?'

'No, no. Still in the army, but she asked for me specifically for some reason. I opted in to these kinda gigs, but I never thought I'd be picked out of all the candidates.'

Moira met Fareeha's eyes in this moment, and the young woman turned away, as if it would distance herself from the predatory gaze she had met. Was it possible Moira was playing another kind of game as well? Could she somehow know about Fareeha's history with Josiah? It didn't seem possible…

'You were always a good soldier.' Fareeha snapped herself back eventually.

'Aw. Thanks. You, too.' He lowered his voice, and Fareeha's skin prickled in agitation. 'You're still one of the most beautiful girls I've ever met. Maybe we can catch up after this? I have a sweet hotel room all to myself. King-size mattress and everything.'

It was a borderline crude offer, but Fareeha doubted such forcefulness and unapologetic advancements didn't work in Josiah's favour in most cases. Still, she tried not to shiver in disgust, the mere thought of having his genitalia presented to her face like the most appealing meal in the world again almost making her gag. Fortunately, that moment hadn't lasted long, for Fareeha was so pathetic at the act of service he skipped the foreplay and went straight for the kill, as he had been trained to do.

'I don't think so.' Fareeha laughed a little.

'No? Really?' Josiah sounded legitimately shocked. 'Can I ask why?'

Part of the truth would be too cruel, but Fareeha didn't feel revealing her relationship with Angela was appropriate either, considering she was working as her bodyguard. Therefore, Fareeha used partial facts for her explanation.

'I'm…currently seeing someone.'

'Oh!' Josiah pushed some curly hair from his forehead. 'Well, small surprise there. You could have any guy you wanted, really. Is it serious?'

Fareeha wanted to look at her, but even she knew that would be _far_ too obvious.

'I think so.'

'Really, now!? Wow. Guess it's about time though, huh? You're, what, twenty-nine or something now?'

'Thirty-two.'

'Damn! Very nice! The good doctor sharing some of her special elixir with you? Because you almost look younger than the last time I saw you.'

'She's…sharing some things with me, yes.' Fareeha grinned.

'Know if _she's_ single? Wouldn't mind rolling the die on that one either, you know? Never see her with a guy, so, I can only guess – '

'She's unavailable.' Fareeha almost snapped.

One aspect of the army Fareeha liked was the equality of gender there. Fareeha was, for the most part, one of the guys, although her natural beauty sometimes worked against her. Nonetheless, during drills and missions, she was expected to perform as capably as her male counterparts. Fortunately, Fareeha had managed as much and more sometimes, and because of this, she was talked to and treated as just another soldier first and a female second. She didn't fault Josiah for eyeing Angela. Hell, Fareeha couldn't resist the urge on any given day, really. He spoke to her as a fellow soldier, still, and it was somewhat comforting.

'You sure?' Josiah raised a brow.

'Positive. I've seen her partner.'

'Tch. Lucky dog. Props to him.'

'I couldn't agree more.'

'Well, I guess I've held you up long enough.' Josiah shrugged, sounding a little disappointed. 'Gotta get back to work and all that. Don't want any of these rabid scientists to get the jump on my "mission".'

'It was good seeing you, Josiah.' Fareeha lied. 'I should return to my task as well.'

'Good luck to the both of us!' The man saluted half-heartedly.

'Right!'

'Just remember,' Josiah turned partially as he was beginning to walk away. 'Don't get _too_ attached to the mission; specially when it involves another human.'

'Of course.' Fareeha simply agreed, for it was pointless to do anything else.

Fareeha returned to Angela, and the doctor practically scowled at her.

'Um…jello shots?'

'Perhaps later.' Angela dismissed herself from the conversation with some "colleagues", arising from her seat and stepping in close to Fareeha. 'I require the use of the facilities. Would you mind escorting me?'

'Oh! Of course. I'm sorry.' Fareeha placed the desserts down, but not before consuming one of the tasty jello shots.

Angela moved out of the main hall with purpose, her heels clacking against the floor almost in anger. Was it just Fareeha's imagination? Doubtful. She knew Angela well enough by now to tell when she was irritated. She was likely at her wit's end with all the airs she had to put forth with the other guests. Fareeha hadn't been away from the table for long, but within that short span a great number of individuals had invaded. She had failed. Perhaps that's what this was about? No. Angela wasn't that petty either. She was a grown, professional woman. A little social entertainment on such a level wasn't foreign to her.

The two women shuffled into the ladies' room, and Angela checked the mirror as another female finished washing her hands. The two exchanged a small nod, and when the door could be heard clicking shut, indicating the third individual's exit, Angela turned to Fareeha, huffed, and then kissed her, holding Fareeha's face tightly and meeting her lips with a surprising amount of passion.

Fareeha eventually found Angela's waist, the fabric of her dress pleasing to the touch, and gasped upon release from the engagement, breathing in Angela's wonderful scent.

'What was that for?' Fareeha decided to ask, although it felt like looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Angela's face coloured slightly, and she breathed out in exasperation. It was rather cute.

'What have you done to me, Fareeha Amari?' She asked seriously.

'I'm afraid I'll need more context.'

Angela leaned back on the counter, the curves of her body overly tempting, forcing Fareeha to shift her focus.

'I can hardly stand the sight of you conversing with a relatively attractive male! Jealousy. Envy. Possessiveness. I was consumed by them all. It physically hurt my chest the more I observed. He was clearly smitten with you, and it took everything in my power not to intercept the interaction more aggressively than I would ever dream. Really. It was absolutely vexing! I've never felt such things! _It's frustrating!_ '

Her German accent wasn't helping matters. Fareeha blinked, flattered but also bothered she had caused the woman such turmoil.

'He's decent looking enough, but I have zero interest, Angela. My eyes only wish to look at you with any form of affection.'

'I'm sure that's true…' Angela sighed distantly. 'However, the reality is that I shall never be capable of taking you as a man could. There's an exponential difference between what I am capable of and what the opposite sex is capable of. It has always been on my mind, to a degree, but this "friend" of yours truly drove the fact home, and the more I fall for you, the more problematic it somehow becomes.'

'Angela…' Fareeha stepped in close, touching her girlfriend's face lovingly. 'Truthfully, I find much more comfort in playing something of a "male"-oriented role in our relationship than I ever did submitting in any way to someone like him.'

' _Pardon?_ ' Angela flinched back, and Fareeha noted her error too late. She had subconsciously decided not to cause Angela more stress by outlining her exact relationship with Josiah, but she was still flustered, and the difficult detail slipped out.

'Um…'

'You've slept with that man?' Angela's tone barely contained the rising anger, and Fareeha tried to calm her with a soft touch that only met stiffened muscle.

'He…was my first, I guess.' Fareeha admitted reluctantly, not wishing to lie to Angela of all people.

'I see.' Angela responded quietly. 'I see.' She repeated.

'Are you upset?' Fareeha asked hesitantly.

'I…am. I am.' Angela's air came out shakily. 'But…only because I love you so much, I am assuming. Yes. I am…hating the fact you have been with others romantically besides myself. Seeing someone personally who has bedded you…is so…utterly…'

She turned away completely, her shoulders shivering in minor spasms. Angela sniffed back tears, and Fareeha wasn't sure how to consult her properly.

'Forgive me.' Angela uttered between tiny sobs. 'I'm being so unreasonable. Hah…' She exhaled long and deeply. 'The matters of the heart prove to be ever so challenging. Logistically, I have no…no ground to stand on. I'm being perfectly irrational. But…b-but on the other hand…'

Angela whipped around and wrapped her arms around Fareeha, squeezing her as tightly as her slender build could manage.

'You're _mine_!'

Fareeha almost chuckled. Angela put on such a mature persona that it was adorable how selfish she could become. It was a testament to how close they had grown, and as Fareeha stroked the bare skin revealed on Angela's back, she returned the embrace, kissing the top of the doctor's head gently.

'I'm not going anywhere, Angela. Your side is where I wish to remain as long as you let me.'

'…Affirmative.' She answered meekly. 'And I'm sorry…again.'

'Don't be, really. To be cared about so authentically…it's very flattering.'

A lengthy pause, and then the door to the elaborate facilities clicked open, the two women parting abruptly and feigning interest in their appearances within the wall of mirrors. They quickly left thereafter, giggling a little to one another as they made their way back to the main hall.

'Let us face the falsities of human ambition once more, Fareeha.' Angela rolled her eyes.

'Understood.'

'Oh, but do be careful with how much alcohol you consume.'

'Of course. But why are you reiterating that?'

Angela beamed, nudging Fareeha with her hip. She said no more, and that made Fareeha's anticipation of the supposed implications all the more elevated.

* * *

The rest of the banquet was fine and good, but it did pass by much quicker than Fareeha could have anticipated. Keeping the multitude of individuals that wanted to speak with _the_ Angela Ziegler back even a little proved a bigger feat than Fareeha could have ever planned for as well, and that itself contributed to the rapid events that led to the end of the night. Angela was notably fatigued by the conclusion of all the engagements, and Fareeha felt a semblance of disappointment at not really having the opportunity or courage to sweep Angela off her feet and into a dance, considering Tobias was no longer present, and only music soothed the atmosphere. Part of the problem was nobody else took the floor, despite there being obvious space for it. She chalked it up to the fact many of the guests were busy siphoning ideas and favour from one another, and Mei, whom may have been one to break the ice, consumed a little too much alcohol, and became a potato early on.

Finally, Moira and Josiah approached Angela's table, and it was as though the entire hall was watching this somewhat legendary exchange about to unfold. Bated breaths observed, and when Moira stood before Angela, both she and Fareeha arose from their seats.

'Dr. Ziegler. A pleasure, as always.' Moira maintained an expression of distant interest, feigning superiority and generosity for initiating the discussion.

'I could easily say the same, Dr. O'Deorain.'

Moira glanced around slowly, her lip upturning slightly.

'Shall we take this discussion to a more private location?'

'Naturally. However, I prefer it not be too secluded.'

'Oh, of course.' Moira mocked. 'But isn't that why you brought your "friend"? In the off chance that the big scary Talon makes some sort of move? A waste of resources, if you ask me.'

'One can never be too careful these days.' Angela didn't flinch, and Fareeha admired her for it, because Moira _was_ a frightening woman; as instinctively frightening as any predator in the wild. She had power. It was obvious. Fareeha didn't know her well, but she could tell, based on all her training over the years and by the way this woman simply carried herself, that she could fight if it came down to it. Josiah just alleviated the effort that may be required.

'Shall we?'

The quartet exited the hall, a number of guards facilitating some nosier colleagues from following, and once they found solitude in the form of an isolated section of the enormous centre, Moira simply took a seat in one of the available cushioned benches lining the windows, and placed one leg over the other delicately, leaning in as though a parent were attempting to level the discussion they were about to have with a child.

Fareeha checked down both sides of the area, guards and facilitators for the convention peppering further in, which brought her some relief, fairly certain even Moira wouldn't try anything so publicly beyond speaking with Angela.

'So, alone at last, hm, Dr. Ziegler?'

'No thanks to you, Dr. O'Deorain.'

'When someone of your calibre is present at any social gathering, I would be doing my people a disservice by not indicating precisely where you are.' Moira chuckled a little, her ornate outfit shimmering and distracting with how elaborate it was; especially when compared to Angela's more traditionally charming gown.

'Nonetheless, I managed well enough, and now the truly intriguing exchange can take place.' Angela seated herself approximately half a metre from Moira, while both bodyguards remained standing, Fareeha much more in posture than Josiah, who appeared strangely relaxed.

'Of course. One cannot speak of Widowmaker openly amongst such petty fools, after all.' Moira's eyes seemed to shimmer, and Fareeha looked to Josiah, a tiny grin forming on his face. So, he was part of Talon now? Even more insulting.

'I see. I suppose I can appreciate your unwillingness to play pleasantries.'

'Like yourself, I've been engaged all day. I hardly have the patience for it now; primarily when speaking with the only doctor in the world I feel even a sliver of respect for.'

'My thanks.'

'Indeed.' Moira hardly moved, and she honestly reminded Fareeha of a snake; still until the second it struck, and by the time its prey realized what had happened, the snake was already consuming it. 'But before that, and I promise I will not avoid the topic, I must ask: how much longer do you have, my dear friend?'

Fareeha almost didn't comprehend the question, but once her brain caught up with the underlining inquiry, her posture faltered, and she almost spoke out, despite her position.

'I'm afraid I don't follow what you're asking of me.' Angela responded coldly.

'I analysed some simulations on a quiet day,' Moira claimed calmly. 'And although the exact numbers revolving around your pivotal nanomachines elude me, I discovered some rather intriguing results based on the formulas I tinkered with.'

'I don't see how this is relevant to our talk.'

'It's always been "relevant", Doctor, for it is one sector of the biological world that I have yet to reproduce adequately: self-regeneration and, dare I say it, eternal youth? My, my, I am still baffled how you cracked that particular code. Perhaps if I pardoned myself from my main veins of discovery within dehumanizing subjects I could very well produce _something_ similar. In any case, my question remains.'

'And I see no merit in humouring it, for your formula is evidently incorrect if you are suggesting my life has, in fact, been shortened despite my physical appearance.'

'Indisputably true. My experiments could have inaccuracies, but there _are_ truths indicating a breakdown of your nanomachines' performance. In Overwatch's days of glory, you were capable of bringing no less than five individuals back from the brink of death with but a wave of your hand. Now, I am told you can hardly manage one, and it is with a great deal of effort you even perform _that_ miracle. If that isn't deterioration on some level, I dare say I know not what is.'

'That was many years ago, and even I am subject to Time's cruel embrace.'

'Evidently.' Moira scoffed.

'Now, since you have thankfully drawn back the curtain of wasting our breath, I will also be blunt: I plan on operating on Widowmaker when I return to my facilities.'

'The same facilities Overwatch is providing you once again?'

'My facilities.' Angela answered wisely.

'How riveting. One of my greatest achievements to be undone by Dr. Ziegler? Please; feel free to send me the report once all is said and complete. I am waiting with bated breath.'

'You don't believe it can be done?'

'Oh, it is difficult to deny you anything when you put your mind to it, Dr. Ziegler. I only wish you luck.'

A beat, and then Angela adjusted her position just so, breathing out sharply as she went on.

'There is still time, Dr. O'Deorain. Use your brilliant mind to _help_ others; not push the world into chaos anew. Together, what couldn't we do?'

'My thoughts precisely, Dr. Ziegler. Together, _nothing_ would be insurmountable. The world is in need of change, or so I've been told. I, truthfully, couldn't care less so long as I am given free reign to do as I please with my time and energy. Your current employer never allowed me that; my present one does.'

'My "current employer" would never use a young woman to kill her own husband. They would never hurt innocent people or ravage war-torn countries. They respond to the cries of the weak; never mock or revel in the sound.'

'Heroes, correct?' Moira muttered lazily.

'Pardon?'

'You fancy yourselves "heroes", am I wrong?'

'Heroes use the power they have to help those who cannot help themselves. It is the correct term.' Fareeha interjected at last, wanting to remind Angela that she was anything but alone.

'Precisely.' Angela smiled to her lady.

'Ugh. How vain and self-righteous. At least I'm not disillusioned.' Moira glanced up to Fareeha, snickering silently. 'And you can speak? How peculiar. I thought you nothing more than the shadow of a far more frightening woman.'

Fareeha's eye twitched, but she remained resolute, refusing to give in to the taunt.

'Can she fight?' Moira inquired now.

'Better than most.' Angela answered sharply.

'Is she an acceptable lover?' Dr. O'Deorain shot back without hardly missing a beat. Josiah finally appeared to snap awake while Angela shook her head.

'I'm sure she would be.'

Moira sighed, leaning back dismissively.

'You've changed, Dr. Ziegler. This conversation was far less enthralling than expected. I am now bored, as I have been through most of the day. You so obviously wished to speak with me, but what have you gained, ultimately?'

'The knowledge that there is no saving you, and that you truly work exclusively for a corrupt organization.'

'Oh. How enlightening. Now, the battle can truly begin. Ect. Ect.'

'I doubt we will meet again for quite some time.' Angela stood up, evidently finished as well, from what Fareeha could tell.

'Hm. Not a convincingly conclusive statement, but an interesting notion, nonetheless.'

Fareeha prepared to escort Angela back to the main hall, but then something on the back of her neck tingled, and she surveyed the area, panic rising in her throat suddenly.

'Oh? That's some acceptable instinct.' Moira cooed.

'Angela.' Fareeha took hold of her woman, bringing her close. 'The guards are gone. We've…been isolated.'

'Indeed.' Moira sighed. 'Josiah?'

'Sorry, Beautiful. The doctor comes with us.' Josiah stepped forward.

Fareeha responded without any hesitation whatsoever. She clocked Josiah clean in the face, and then followed up with the fiercest kick she could manage between his legs. When the man buckled, she elbowed him across the cheek, blood splattering out of his mouth prior to Fareeha landing three more successive blows until he was on his back, completely out cold. She withdrew her phone and hastily clicked through some menus, her knuckles cut and red.

'Good lord. Perhaps I underestimated you, daughter of Ana.' Moira chuckled.

Fareeha brought Angela behind her, arm extended and eyes focussed narrowly on the Talon doctor.

'She stays with me. I've already reported you to the authorities. They'll be here any moment.'

'Charming.' Moira rolled her eyes. 'But I can't help it if a lover's quarrel started in my presence.'

'That's _not_ what happened!' Fareeha hissed.

'Enough, Fareeha. Let us retreat to where there are more people. This wasn't unexpected. Dr. O'Deorain has always been envious of my work. She has finally reached the point of wishing to extract it forcibly. A pity. You had such potential.' Angela verbally attacked, and Moira's unshakeable visage showed just the tiniest hint of cracking.

'Ever the mouthy one at times. I may derive pleasure from the methods used to gain the knowledge we seek from you, Doctor Ziegler.'

'You'll have to get past _my_ bodyguard first.' Angela touched Fareeha's back, and the taller woman felt as though she could take on the world. It was a shame she had to hurt Josiah so, but he made his bed the moment he agreed to whatever contract Talon offered. Fareeha only felt further disgusted for allowing her younger self to be so weak in the face of social expectation and peer pressure.

'Oh, I intend to.' Moira chuckled, and one of the many doors nearby leading into various rooms located around the centre slid open, Tobias appearing with his sickening smile and glowing, red eyes.

'Do not fight it!' Angela exclaimed instantly, but before Fareeha could even consider her words, the omnic was on her, its speed uncanny, and its face like something out of a nightmare as it grappled her neck and lifted her high into the air. Fareeha kicked at the machine, but she only hurt herself.

'Make a point, Tobias.' Moira drawled.

'Acknowledged.' And something like a hammer slammed into Fareeha's stomach, her body collapsing to the ground in agony, her mind ringing and the taste of blood slipping into her throat.

'No! _No!_ Stop! I-I'll go! No more!' Angela screamed, and Fareeha could only grunt, looking around expectantly, but barely maintaining focus.

'My. How quickly your tune has changed, Dr. Ziegler.' Moira taunted. 'But fear not, for she will not die here. What leverage would I have then? No. Leverage is everything. Why, how else would I orchestrate such an opportunity amidst a well facilitated event? A little nook of privacy; it's all I asked. How sweet that those old fools would comply. Now, Talon's reach expands evermore, and my playground extends into new territory.'

' _Filthy traitor_.' Angela grunted.

' _It's quite impossible to betray anything you're not loyal to in the first place, Doctor._ ' Moira responded in German, although Fareeha couldn't understand it perfectly.

However, the nearby windows suddenly shattered, and Fareeha pushed herself onto her knees, extending her arms outward as a platinum-covered suitcase popped open, pieces of armour snapping onto Fareeha within seconds, a familiar operating system booting up before her eyes as the final touches connected, her newly modified Raptora Mark VI shimmering in the lights.

'Now, that was unexpected.' Moira's eyes lit up, but Fareeha couldn't focus on her anymore. "Tobias" was on her again, but at least this time she could take a hit from him, blocking the attack and countering with a blast of her own, distancing herself from the omnic and grabbing hold of Angela in the process. It was hard to breathe, and even harder to operate her suit after the punishment she had received, but this was her opportunity, and Fareeha simply released a rocket into the general direction of Moira and the black omnic. Even if she missed, the glass shattering and the explosion of her attack would notify _someone_.

'Fareeha…' Angela could be heard, but Fareeha didn't have time. She tried to take to the air, yet Tobias was so agile, and he had her again, easily damaging her suit with his sheer strength and going so far as to bite at her head with his grotesque "mouth", sparks flying and sirens sounding within Fareeha's headset indicating she was being heavily compromised.

'I love you…'

Was that Angela? No. It was impossible to hear. The crushing around Fareeha's head continued, and she growled, flailing at her enemy but held in place with ease. She simply couldn't match the monster's strength. Where was Angela? Hopefully she got away while Fareeha held off this beast. As long as she was safe. As long as she was okay, Fareeha could fight. As long as…

Her suit shut down completely.

The weight lifted off her body at last.

Fareeha ripped her fragmented helmet off with trembling hands, and through her blurred vision, only dust and debris from her aimless attacks remained. Had she fallen unconscious? Footsteps were approaching her. She turned painfully, praying they were Angela's.

They were not.

More footsteps joined the first set. But none of them belonged to Angela.

Angela Ziegler a.k.a. Mercy of Overwatch…

…had been successfully abducted.


	43. XLIII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

When was the first time someone told Amelie they loved her? Family didn't count, and it wasn't as though those words of endearment were sincere to begin with. No. It was a fellow ballet student. Yes. That's right. She was in her early teens, training daily to become the best in France. He was the only male in class. The other girls seemed rather interested. He wasn't anything noteworthy, from what Amelie could recall, but when there was any form of shortage, the masses tended to reduce expectations.

Widow sat up, rubbing her head and pushing at her matted hair. The dim light was beginning to flicker. The cell wasn't well-maintained. It was rarely used, surely. Tracer's scent lingered. A touch of sweet sweat and kiwi? She could still taste the bizarre girl's lips. The interaction…wasn't as horrible as Widow may have anticipated, surprisingly.

She had asked him what he was doing, pushing at his hard chest and seeing the utter confusion upon his face. He laughed nervously, shrugging and simply stating that he loved her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to be with her. Amelie rejected him swiftly; perhaps too harshly, upon reflection. She returned to ballet lessons as normal from then onward, but normalcy was lost as quickly as she shut the boy down. Rumours circulated, likely caused by him, and Amelie was shunned. It hurt her feelings, of course, but she was so focused on becoming the best at her craft, even at such a young age, she didn't quite care enough.

Widow felt the mattress against her back again. It was hard. Another day. She had no sense of time, but she anticipated Tracer had been gone for almost twelve hours now. She had promised she would return. Did Widow look forward to the young woman's presence? Slightly. She would admit that much to herself. Tracer grounded her, as much as she hated to admit it. The whispering in her head relented in light of the girl's brightness. Perhaps that's all it was; temporary relief.

The bullying escalated to the point that Amelie was forced to move to a different school of ballet. Tacks in her shoes. Hidden underwear. Soiled clothes. Graffiti on her locker. She was called a "slut" and "whore" over and over and over again. It was like being in a movie. Except Amelie felt more disconnected from her own reality when compared to a fictional character's cliched tragedy. Perhaps her ambitions elevated her beyond adolescent jealousy and rage. The boy claimed Amelie had performed fellatio for him, although his wording was much cruder. Amelie didn't feel the need to refute the statement. What good would it do her?

'Why…?' Widow uttered the question allowed, a small echoing bouncing within the room. Her memories were returning. At least Jack allowed her to keep the pills Dr. Ziegler had prescribed. But the question remained: why were _these_ the memories at the forefront of her mind?

Widow almost chuckled to herself.

That girl. Her words. She felt something like "love" for Widow. How incredibly ludicrous. Widow had tried to kill the Overwatch agent three times – twice if one wished to be technical – and yet, Tracer had the gall to wish for some form of sexual interaction or, even more amusingly, a romantic relationship?

' _Absurd._ '

However, the memories flowed through Widow's troubled mind.

Amelie thought she was in love once. When she moved to a new ballet school, the teaching instructor had an assistant. He was charming, with soft, almost feminine features, yet he could dance like no other male Amelie had seen. A few years passed, and Amelie was somewhat content admiring the young man from afar. It felt safe; safer than any relationship she knew. Her new instructor often said it was impossible to dance the way Amelie did without extreme emotional capability and sensitivity. She had asked Amelie if everything was alright at home once. Amelie, naturally, claimed all was well. It was a lie. All was simply silent in the manor's halls. One could work to live or live to work. Her parents had chosen the latter long before Amelie was born.

One afternoon, Amelie was the singular student who made it to the lesson. There were generally only three other classmates at most, considering how prestigious the school was. The main instructor stepped out for but a moment, and Amelie counted her blessings for having what her young mind translated as a private date with the man who had caught her eye. He seemed nervous, but eventually found his courage, and asked Amelie to perform a variety of movements. He claimed he could teach her how to better improve her posture, and did so with a rather intimately physical approach. Before Amelie knew it, his hand slid from her thigh and up between her legs, gently massaging her body.

" _Is this okay?_ " He had asked. It still bewildered her. Surely, he knew the answer.

" _No._ " Amelie uttered.

" _Oh._ "

But he didn't stop until Amelie stepped down and away, seeing her face in the mirror and shocked by the discomfort she viewed in her own quivering expression. When the instructor returned, Amelie immediately spoke out against the assistant. Only after he was told to leave did she cry. Only then did it settle in her mind that he had taken advantage of his position, age, and sex.

Amelie struggled with the notion of love after that. Ballet made more sense despite its abstract nature.

'Food.' A grunt called out, sliding a tray and bottle of water through the bottom slot of the door. Widow heard the footsteps walk away, and she was alone again. She observed the plate of a fairly well-made sandwich and pudding. She decided it was best she sustained herself, at the very least.

 _Why?_

It was a valid question. Why, indeed?

 _To kill?_

No. No more. She didn't want to live for that anymore.

 _Then why?_

She couldn't shake the desire completely. It got worse the closer the time to take her medication drew. She lost all composure when she thought Tracer had died.

 _Why?_

Why, indeed? Although she certainly didn't share the same feelings the young girl cultivated for Widow, she couldn't deny the way Tracer – or Lena, perhaps – had extended beyond her call of duty to help Widow. Without her, Widow would either be dead physically, or completely lost mentally. She owed her life to Lena.

 _What life?_

That was still a work in progress, but the girl's suggestion wasn't a terrible one. Ballet. Returning to that world she found so much pleasure in regardless of the minor hiccups. Do it for Gerard. Do it for her unborn child. Do it for the life almost stripped from her. Harness the agony festering in her bowels and perpetuate it for the masses to see. What form of dance could she perform now with all this experience behind her? She could change the world.

 _Or kill. Kill them all._

The tray of food flew across the room, smashing into the wall and scattering her meal. Widow grunted, ringing in her ears, and bit back the voices. Realizing what she had done in a fit of panic and rage, Widow crouched down, compiling her sandwich back together as best she could, and clasped it between her hands, swallowing prior to biting into the dirtied concoction.

" _You look beautiful when you eat. Did you know that?_ " Gerard's words. One of their first dates. He was charming, there was no doubt about that, but Amelie was cautious. She hadn't humoured a man in her thoughts since that incident quite some time ago, yet something about Gerard seemed harmless enough. She would see.

" _You look beautiful with every action you take. Naturally graceful and, dare I say, seductive._ "

She wasn't sure about the comment. It was sexually suggestive, and it made her anxious. Was he like all the other lustful gazes she was all too familiar with now? How many dates would it take before he grew frustrated with her lack of "aggression"? She would hold his hand. She would hug him. She would even kiss him. But nothing more than that. Nothing at all. How long would it take before he realized she wouldn't make love to him without very good reason?

Widow placed her arm over her eyes, breathing heavily. Her index finger twitched. She knew what her body wanted. The thrill of the kill. It was almost time for her medicine. The anxiety was getting worse. She wanted to kill. She needed to kill. Talon would assign her a new target any moment now. The waiting. The watching. The perfect moment.

Widow groaned, fighting back at the thoughts. She pictured Gerard, but it hurt. She imagined Lena and…it didn't hurt quite so terribly. She had kissed her. Lena had kissed her. Her lips were…surprisingly soft. Perhaps the young girl's brash behaviour made her assume otherwise, but Widow wouldn't deny the experience's pleasing sensation. Even Lena's touch was much gentler than expected. Very different from a man's. Very different from Gerard.

" _I apologize, my love, but I fear my performance might be…er…lacking._ "

He was devastated. Rings glimmered on both their fingers, and Amelie was still partially in her wedding gown, although much of it had been dishevelled or nearly torn off altogether. She lay in shock, her body aching and blood staining the sheets between her legs. He was cleaning himself off. He didn't bother using protection. He pulled out, his face in terrible agony as he did so.

" _Never before have I been so starved for another's affection. I've waited so long, and yet, it barely lasted any time at all. Pathetic. I'm usually much more considerate…_ "

She asked him if there had been many others. He brought over a damp cloth as he settled next to her and answered, dabbing at her swollen, blushing form.

" _Enough to know you were worth the wait._ "

She never told him that his answer bothered her. It was foolish, she knew, but somehow she expected more of the man. Amelie had saved herself for the one she would vow her life to. Why couldn't he? If only he wasn't so kind, supportive, and charming. Perhaps then she could've saved herself the pain.

She tore a nail with her teeth, the piece ripping at her skin and trailing up her finger to the first joint. Widow whimpered. Pain. She could feel it. This heartache. She could feel it. Isolation. Lunacy. It was all-encompassing. She stood up, her finger stinging, and balanced high on her toes, reaching up and almost touching the ceiling. It was easier than before. Her body was much stronger.

" _You watch such things? The acting is terrible!_ "

He was just out of the shower, his black locks wet, and body bare save for a towel around his waist. Gerard was muscular but toned. He had a masculine build, with masculine hair all over his body. She didn't mind the scruffiness of it all save for when he was pushing into her, as deep as he could until Amelie gasped in a mixture of arousal and discomfort. That irritation made her lose patience, but the release of his warmth at the end of their constant lovemaking struck a small balance. She liked feeling him within. She revelled in his vulnerable moans and unrestrained facial features when he finished.

" _Did you cum?_ " He asked once.

Amelie expressed confusion, recalling she had claimed not to be a man, thinking her husband made a joke.

" _No, my love. A woman is capable of an orgasm as well. Surely you know this._ "

He had laughed. Was this such common knowledge? How could she have possibly missed such a thing? Minor research after the embarrassing inquiry solidified Gerard's suggestion. Being raised perfectly proper. Private tutoring. Exclusive ballet lessons. Monitored books. Amelie had somehow been missed in a piece of life. It made her chuckle to herself.

Sex was a means of procreation first and foremost, was it not? What purpose did a woman's "climax", as her research had called it, serve? The fact having intercourse with Gerard felt relatively nice was well and good, but Amelie drew the most fulfillment from simply being so close to him. Skin on skin. Utterly exposed and hopelessly vulnerable.

Shortly thereafter, Gerard focused heavily on Amelie during the next session of intimacy. She didn't mind, really, but the moment his fingers began stroking her womanhood, she tensed up, holding her breath and squinting her eyes shut. It was horrendously familiar; even after all the years that had passed.

" _What was his name?_ " Gerard had asked after Amelie felt she owed him an explanation for cutting them short. " _I'll kill him._ "

Widow's eyes snapped open. How much time had passed? Was she sleeping long? The flickering light was making her nauseas. She bit down on her lip, the dreams becoming more vivid. The memories hurting further. Where was Lena?

Finally, the door's main locks buzzed open, and Lena stepped through them. She looked exhausted, and was in her complete uniform, the yellow spandex and pilot jacket surprisingly distracting. Widow blinked rapidly, standing up proper, thankful she wasn't trapped with her past by herself any longer.

'So, so sorry, Luv. Really. It's been a bloody zoo up there.' She shook her head, plopping onto the bed and looking at Widow, her clear, dark eyes purer than ever somehow. The pain in Widow's chest amplified, and she swallowed sharply.

'Another black omnic?' She asked, her own voice sounding strange.

'I wish. That'd be a little simpler to deal with, wouldn't it? No. Just a suicide mission I wasn't told about. Can't blame 'em, really. I'd never agree to it. Never. God…'

'Oh…'

Lena slapped her knees, turning her focus to Widow and grinning.

'Here's the short version, kay? I gotta go. All hands on deck for a major hit on Talon. They need some of the best. I'm one of 'em, you know? I don't got a choice. They captured Ange. Well, "captured". Jesus…'

Widow squinted.

'She…allowed herself to be abducted by Talon?'

'Right!? _Right!?_ Bloody hell! So, yeah. I'm outta here. If anything happens to her…'

Widow froze, images of horror flickering through her mind. Her body shaking. Her blood frozen. Her mouth dry.

' _There. Want to name it? Not sure if it was a boy or girl. You can see a little hand forming there. I know. I know. It's hard to tell. Mostly muck. Ah, well. Much easier to operate on you. A pregnant woman would only cause the workers grief. Clean yourself up. I've done enough for the day. My lord. You're beautiful…even when you have that vacant look on your face._ '

' – lie? Amelia? You hear me?' Tracer waved in front of Widow's face, and she slapped the hand away.

'Not Amelie. Widowmaker. I'm coming with you.'

'Oi…' Tracer slumped, her shoulders dropping. 'Don't think I don't wanna, but even I might not get away with breaking you outta here. It was an executive decision to lock you up, and – '

Widow grabbed Tracer by the collar of her jacket and pinned her down on to the bed, the mattress creaking and the frame groaning. She sat atop the other girl's waist and lifted her shirt over her head, the cool, ever present draft coasting across her bare breasts and stiffening the dark tips of her chest.

'O-oh, my God…!' Tracer gasped, rightly shell-shocked.

Widow reached behind her body and placed her hand between Tracer's legs, the spandex a little awkward to the touch, but the smoothness of the other girl's body not altogether unappealing.

'A-ah…A-Amelie…! Wait…!'

Widow released her touch, and leaned in so that her face was mere inches from Tracer's, her full lips grazing the other girl's as she talked.

'I will make love to you right this instant if you allow me to join this fight, Tracer.' Her voice got caught, and a wave of hysteria threatened to consume her mind whole. 'It's what you want, isn't it?'

A pause, with evident internal turmoil tormenting the Overwatch agent. Tracer growled angrily, waving her hands in front of her face and grabbing hold of Widow's shoulders. She took two full breaths in and out before speaking again, her tone quiet and laced with regret.

'Put on your shirt, Beautiful. I ain't gonna do it like this. No way.'

Widow felt the wave of contrasting emotions at the denial. Had she ever been rejected before? Had she ever been so forward before? Amelie would never. Widowmaker, on the other hand, was quite capable. So, which persona was her true self now? Which emotion was her honest response to not being allowed to use her body for her own gain?

'No?' Widow found her top and stretched the material back over her head, her hair picking up static and becoming unrulier. Tracer reached up, combing her fingers through the mess and smiling sadly.

'Trust me; hardest decision I had to make lately, but it wouldn't mean anything if your heart wasn't in it, right?'

Only Gerard had ever spoken to her like this. Only Gerard had ever cared so deeply for her. Only Gerard had shown unparalleled patience with her; faults and all. Only Gerard had made her reconsider the concept of "love". Amelie did not love Lena. But in this moment, she would admit silently to herself that she didn't hate her either.

'I see.' Widow said softly.

Lena breathed out slowly one more time, and then shook her head, slapping her cheeks and standing up suddenly, extending her hand out to Amelie.

'If I get fired I might hafta take you up on that offer as a sort of compensation thing. Deal?'

'Oh?' Widowmaker cooed. 'But what if my heart isn't in it?'

Lena giggled, lifting Widow from the bed and releasing her hand.

'I don't wanna brag, Luv, but when I get serious with the lovemaking, I'm not even sure _you_ could resist me once we get going.'

'Hmph.' Widow cocked her head slyly. 'An intriguing proposition. I will not confirm or deny the deal. Will you still allow me to join this fight?'

'Rubbish…' Lena muttered cutely to the side. 'Fine! Fine! Let's get movin', Luv! Ain't no more time to waste! You know that more than anyone, right?'

'Precisely…'

Widowmaker's eyes narrowed as she followed Lena, her heart aflame and her ambitions clear. Her eyes burned, recalling her late husband's visage of raw shock and disbelief just before his life ended. Recalling the pile of blood and decrepit matter hacked out of her into a crude, rusting bucket. Never again. She would kill them all if she had to. From her brief interaction with Dr. Ziegler, she wanted nothing like she experienced to happen to the woman willing to operate on Widowmaker, a murderer and enemy to Overwatch.

The shift in her glacier of a heart had finally begun. Her finger twitched with anticipation. Talon had created the ultimate assassin, and that same assassin was prepared to finally fight back in earnest.


	44. XLIV: Mercy

Mercy

 _'How do you feel about this, Angela?'_

 _'Truthfully? Scared.'_

 _'Mm.'_

 _'But I understand the reasoning, and it's a sound plan so long as we understand our enemy's desires well enough.'_

 _'Remember: it's only one scenario of many.'_

 _'It's the most probable, Winston. We both know this.'_

 _'True…'_

 _'Moira won't pass on such an opportunity. She's always been envious of my nanotechnology, and she'll see this as the perfect chance to uncover its secrets.'_

 _'Could she?'_

 _'Knowing her? I wouldn't doubt it.'_

 _'Then we best move quickly if she successfully captures you.'_

 _'Successfully? I suppose I'll willingly be escorted out of Oasis…albeit rather roughly, I'm sure.'_

 _'Very well. I'll prepare the tracking devices, then, and I'll have a pre-emptive squad ready to infiltrate your holding place the moment it's located.'_

 _'You have my thanks.'_

 _'We're always on the defensive when dealing with Talon. This plan comes with high risks, but if we can land a blow against them here, we gain something of an advantage; perhaps even favour in the eyes of the U.N., if all goes perfectly well.'_

 _'Jack planned this very competently, I see.'_

 _'Er…'_

 _'Come now, Winston. We both know you are not the scheming type. You're all the more wonderful for it. Jack thought this up, didn't he?'_

 _'He…may have suggested something here and there…'_

 _'Such a silly man at times.'_

 _'I'm sorry.'_

 _'You have nothing to apologize for. I'm agreeing to it because I see the benefits. If putting my life on the line inadvertently helps thousands in the long run, I hesitate not.'_

 _'…Are you sure?'_

 _'Heh. Well, now. You see through me, don't you?'_

 _'I'm not positive, but…_ something _seems off.'_

 _'Can you keep a secret, Winston? Should I return safe and sound to base, I likely will take it upon myself to reveal what I'm about to say to those involved, but for now, I feel it's best not to complicate matters more than necessary considering our circumstances.'_

 _'O-of course!'_

 _'I…am currently in a relationship with Fareeha Amari.'_

 _'…Pardon?'_

 _'Heheh! An adorable reaction. But I am not teasing you'_

 _'Oh. O-oh!'_

 _'I am quite smitten with her. I am unsure how far our fancies will take us, but I do care about her quite a bit.'_

 _'That's…uh…unexpected.'_

 _'Believe me, I know. I would have never foreseen such a turn of events.'_

 _'Should we tell her about the possibility of this plan unfolding?'_

 _'No.'_

 _'No?'_

 _'She'd never allow it. Do not tell Lena either. She's too soft-hearted to understand the rewards this risk could bring.'_

 _'What if Fareeha gets hurt?'_

 _'…You had to ask that, didn't you?'_

 _'Well…'_

 _'I'll protect her. It's all part of the risk.'_

 _'Are you okay?'_

 _'Yes. No. I…can't stand the thought of her getting injured because of me but, in the same breath, I want her by my side. I can't do this without her. It would be…too terrifying.'_

 _'I'll ask Torbjorn to make the appropriate modifications to her suit, then. She'll be the first to know where they take you. We'll keep in contact with her and direct as necessary. She's her mother's daughter, and I have faith her skills are worthy of the Amari name.'_

 _'Thank-you, Winston.'_

 _'Do you need a tissue?'_

 _'…Please.'_

 _'You…um…really care about her, huh?'_

 _'Heh. It's strange for me to tear up so easily, isn't it?'_

 _'It is.'_

 _'She does this to me, you know? Makes me question my sanity.'_

 _'I think…that means it's something special. Maybe.'_

 _'For certain.'_

 _'…Well, let's go over the details one last time, okay?'_

 _'Please.'_

 _'If we can successfully capture Moira, we deal a massive blow to Talon they won't soon recover from.'_

 _'And vice-versa if I am not hastily recovered.'_

 _'…Y-yeah…'_

 _'…Winston?'_

 _'Uh-huh?'_

 _'If I prepare a letter for Fareeha, should the absolute worst-case scenario transpire, would you please give it to her?'_

 _'…Yes.'_

 _'Thank-you.'_

 _'But we won't let that "worst-case scenario" happen, Angela.'_

 _'I'm positive you are telling the truth, but I will prepare one nonetheless.'_

* * *

She awoke from what she could assume to be some form of sleep-inducing drug. Angela attempted to struggle, but only barely nudged her shoulders, hurting her neck with the sharp movement. She breathed out shakily once she managed to comprehend what her current reality was, and prayed she wouldn't be waiting _too_ long for relief.

'Mm. Momentary panic hastily replaced with forced calmness instigated by the hope that you will, indeed, be rescued by your pitiful organization. How sad.' Moira commented, holding a destroyed tracking device that had once rested within Angela's flowery headband. 'Also, how obvious. You truly underestimate me so? I'm wounded.'

Angela observed her surroundings as much as she could without being overly transparent. She was clearly in some kind of lab, but it didn't look like the state-of-the-art facility she would expect from Moira of Talon. Was she in some form of secondary base for Talon? A hidden experimental room for Moira alone? It was unfortunate, but at least Moira was here before her, and that was still worth the risk. However, Angela also took note of the various attachments to her body, wires feeding into multiple computers and images showing what appeared to be microscopic enhancements of her body's internal functions and structures. She could piece together what it all meant, and she swallowed, maintaining a front of bravado, but thinking fiercely of a young woman with dark skin and kind, selfless eyes.

'You would lower yourself further, Moira? _I'm_ wounded. To think I considered you a rival at one point.' Angela managed, although her voice hurt.

There was a momentary pause, and Angela couldn't catch Moira's reaction, but she could only assume, based on the silence, that she was hardly pleased.

'You always had a flicker of arrogance about you. I seemed to be the only one capable of observing it, but I thought it strange considering your seeming wish to "save the world". Is that simply to feed your ego as well?'

'How one is viewed is often influenced by the emotions associated with that same individual. You were and are jealous of my accomplishments, and thus, every action I take will be skewed by that fragmented lens. Arrogance to you; confidence to others.'

Another pause, and Moira didn't reply this time, fiddling with her desk of tools before placing something cold on Angela's arm. Overwatch's angel didn't have time to comprehend what happened prior to her whole body flinching, the nerves reacting to the indescribable pain ahead of her brain's understanding that a hole approximately half an inch in diameter had been instantaneously punctured through her limb. Angela clamped her mouth shut, but she was screaming within, a shrieking muffled by her own choice as her neck swelled with veins and blood pooled over the wound, dripping down her arm. In the moment of agony she, for whatever reason, realized she was still in the white dress she had been so excited about showing Fareeha just earlier this day.

Moira shifted in her chair, tapping away at a computer as the numbers and images on her multitude of screens fluctuated. She hummed creepily to herself, and once Angela's nanomachines began to work their magic, the other doctor went especially quiet, squinting at the information being fed to her and flying her fingers across the holographic keyboard.

'Riveting…' She commented quite simply. 'A small wonder you do not help the populace by implementing a similar procedure to them all. I doubt the entire planet would have the resources necessary, based on what I have speculated, to fund such a project. Thus, you inject yourself with hundreds upon thousands upon millions of nanomachines with the mindset of, "then _I_ shall stay alive long enough to help as many as possible". Is this a feasible evaluation?'

Angela was just barely finished recovering from the preliminary damage done to her body. Her face was covered in sweat, and her breaths felt tight. Such extreme destruction to her body left lingering fluctuations. Moira likely used some form of miniature laser to inflict immediate harm. How much longer would Angela stay conscious if she continued such methods?

'Where are your snarky comments now, Dr. Ziegler? Ah, yes. You aren't what you once were, are you? Indeed, the nanomachines have kept you alive and youthful well enough, but there are signs of degeneration. From what I have just seen, overusing them has a rather adverse effect, no? If they cannot "reproduce" faster than their ability to heal, you progressively lose more and more, weakening your physical self with every "revive" and mortal wound recovered from. Therefore, I must ask, why not inject yourself with more? A curious conundrum. Perhaps because the initial implementation was risky enough as is? Mayhap a new batch of nanomachines wouldn't coexist with the previous ones safely? I can only speculate upon that part.'

Three more hits. Her other arm and both her legs, just above the knee cap.

' _A-ahhhhhh! Ugh…H-hah…mng…!_ '

Darkness.

* * *

 _'I've tried writing a song before.'_

 _'Oh? Really? What was it about?'_

 _'Er…'_

 _'Come now. It can't be that embarrassing.'_

 _'It was something of a tribute to my mother, I guess.'_

 _'O-oh…'_

 _'It was terrible, but it made me feel better. I can play the guitar well enough, but I can't carry a tune to save my life.'_

 _'Hahah! I'm not very good either. That being said, would you sing a line or two of it for me?'_

 _'I'd rather not, Angela.'_

 _'For a kiss?'_

 _'…I-I can't really remember it.'_

 _'But you would have for a kiss? Truly?'_

 _'Of course…'_

 _'Goodness! Aren't you precious? Come here, Fareeha Amari!'_

* * *

Angela awoke again covered in sweat, her dress stuck to her body and her limbs aching. A strong scent filled her nose. She had been forced to become conscious again. Blood was caked to her skin and seeping into parts of her ballgown.

'I didn't say you could sleep. We were having an intelligent conversation, Dr. Ziegler.' Moira groaned in obvious annoyance. She was a monster. A monster that had only gotten started. 'I noticed a rather intriguing abnormality when your body went into distress from the little pricks I gave it. Your nanomachines are quite intelligent, aren't they? They healed your other arm's wound much quicker than your legs. Can they learn and retain information? Or was it only because of the proximity and timing of the wounds? Further analysis is required, I'm afraid. You understand. We're both doctor's, after all.'

'You haven't…figured them out yet…have you?' Angela wheezed, forcing herself to grin.

Moira's eye twitched, and she placed the cool device she had used to puncture Angela's body over the good doctor's forehead.

'Tell me, Dr. Ziegler, could they repair a brain? _That_ would be quite the feat! The most complex organic material in the world reconstructed by _your_ precious nanomachines! The tales you could tell…if you could still talk, that is. If you could still remember _anything_ , that is; including that woman's daughter. What was her name again? The one you willingly gave yourself up for to keep safe?'

She was waiting for a reaction. Angela couldn't give it to her. She couldn't give her definitive leverage.

'Clamping up again? How…unfortunate. Let us increase the diameter of this little toy, shall we?'

Angela clamped her eyes shut, feeling a soft pressure on her stomach before there was darkness afresh.

* * *

 _'What's your favourite time of the day, Angela?'_

 _'Oh? What a curious question! Why do you ask?'_

 _'Because it's something I don't know about you.'_

 _'Heheh! Is that all?'_

 _'That's all.'_

 _'Well, then…I'd say it would have to be evening. Nothing can compare to such glorious colours. It's quite sad, mind you, but it's part of what makes the moment so beautiful; because it must end eventually.'_

 _'R-right. Happiness can only be realized because of sadness.'_

 _'Hahah! Precisely. A memory is precious because it is just that.'_

 _'…Can I admit something, Angela?'_

 _'Of course. Please do.'_

 _'Ever since our first outing together…I've been keeping a log of our time.'_

 _'Like a diary?'_

 _'…A log.'_

 _'My apologies.'_

 _'I don't want to forget anything. How strange, right?'_

 _'No. Not in the slightest. I may have to do the same, because I value every second we spend with one another.'_

 _'Heh.'_

 _'And what about you, Fareeha? What part of the day do you love the most?'_

 _'…Honestly? I'd never really thought much on it before.'_

 _'I see.'_

 _'But I have an answer now, I think.'_

 _'And?'_

 _'The part of the day you're in.'_

* * *

Angela coughed. More ammonia inhalants. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, and she could taste blood, the sides of her mouth caked in it.

'You're a disaster, Dr. Ziegler.' Moira hummed lowly. 'But the data I've collected is more than sufficient. Thank-you for your cooperation, in that regard.' She pushed out of her chair, retreating to the other side of the room before initializing what had to be a communication device of some kind. 'Bring in the subject immediately. Thank-you.'

Angela blinked slowly, her bowels stabbing with pain.

'Do not fret. I simply wanted to observe the nanomachines working on an organ. Your large intestine and left kidney were compromised, but they are nearly completely reconstructed. It only took approximately half an hour. In your prime, I wonder what that number would be, but alas. Now, for one final note.'

Her arms again. Both of them in near unison. Angela tried to scream, but nothing came out. Her skin was convulsing, and she could nearly feel her cells disintegrating.

'Very good.' Moira nodded to herself, although she was just a shape in Angela's hindered vision. 'They do not retain memory, it would seem. I still have room for improvements. How exciting.'

It hurt. It was pain on par with what had happened in St. Petersburg. She knew this was precisely what would happen on the mission, but it didn't reduce the torturous experiments whatsoever. She didn't want to pass out again, however, because her thoughts let their guard down, and she feared Moira would somehow see her memories; the ones with Fareeha in them. Her Fareeha. Her gallant knight.

'Hm?' Moira perked up. 'They sped up? Why?' She observed one of the monitors closely. 'What are you thinking about? Are they in tune with your mental state? Heheh…This rabbit hole is much deeper than I could have ever anticipated. You truly are worthy of being _my_ rival, Dr. Ziegler. No matter. This part of the experiment is over. I can work with such information, and your time is obviously limited.'

Relief. A momentary interlude. Angela caught her breath, her face sticky with sweat and blood. Her body twitching. Her eyes shaking. She had her mind still, but even that was breaking. Too much damage in too little of time. She needed to rest, otherwise…

A door slid open, and shuffling occurred, a muffled, frightened voice ushered into the lab. Moira clicked some pieces into place, assembling a similar readout from the patient as she had attached to Angela.

'You may go.' She demanded of the agent who brought in the other individual, waiting until the door slid shut again before continuing. 'Your "revive" ability is rather unique, isn't it? No other being on the planet can bring a singular individual back from the brink of death the way you can. More notably still, you could enact miraculous healing upon up to five individuals in your glory days, am I correct? No matter. I'm only concerned with the present.'

Angela could comprehend what came next. Her restraints were released, and no sooner had they clicked off her did Moira pump a hole into the "subject", the cloth tightly wrapped around his mouth making his screams slightly restrained as blood pumped out of his stomach like a volcanic eruption. The sound tore at Angela's ears, and she flipped off the table she was previously bound to, wires entangling her and her body heavier than she could possibly lift with minimal effort.

'This is Simon. A plain and terrible name. Say "hello", Simon.' Moira paused, humming morbidly again. 'Oh, Simon, do take it like a man, won't you? Dr. Ziegler will fix you up soon enough. He has approximately ten minutes, based on my calculations, Dr. Ziegler. He's killed nearly fifty individuals since working for Talon. He is one of our best snipers…if decades behind Widowmaker. Still, you'll save him, won't you?'

Angela coughed, straining to see straight and pushing herself up from the floor, barely viewing past Moira's shoes. She had no choice. Moira knew as much. This wasn't even a test anymore. It was a thorough examination. How much longer? Where were her comrades? This pain…This agony…

'Needs to be within a certain proximity. Gauging distance now. Oh, don't mind me, Dr. Ziegler. Thinking aloud. You know how it goes.'

Angela dragged herself across the floor, her body threatening to shut down at any moment. It was in critical condition. She could make that call. She was in a constant state of shock. Black clouds hung before her eyes, and the ringing in her ears was only getting louder. Why was she doing this again? He was the enemy. He had killed so many. What difference did it make if he died? The world would be better without him. How many more would he kill if she saved the Talon agent?

No.

His screams were real. His pain was real. Was it within Angela's power to judge his fate as such? He could be like another Widowmaker; killing against his will. Angela didn't know. She couldn't know. Her promise wasn't circumstantial, if she could help it. Like the hand reaching for her that she couldn't save. Like the hand that had the same blood as hers covering it. She changed the world because of that hand. She wouldn't turn away from it now. How could she face Fareeha if she did?

Blood smeared across the ground as Angela crawled, groaning in anguish as she did so.

'Running out of time, Dr. Ziegler.'

Hadn't she done enough? How much more did she have to suffer? What more could she offer the world? The people? Herself? The dark clouds were closing in over her eyes, and Angela lay her head on the ground, tears streaming down her face. Her body was pushing back. The nanomachines were turning against her.

'Fareeha…help me…' She sobbed quietly.

* * *

 _'When the fight is over, Fareeha, and should we all be alive and well, what would you want to do afterward?'_

 _'Upon Winston recruiting me, I assumed I would return to the army, but now, I'm not so sure…'_

 _'You wish to remain by my side?'_

 _'I-if you would have me, it's something I've considered.'_

 _'My life is anything but a simple one, Fareeha. I would love to give you all my affection and attention, but I have been blessed with intellect beyond a normal human's, and I can do nothing else but offer myself to the people who need me. I would travel to places like Iraq again, and the living conditions would be no better, presumably. It is not a luxurious life. I dare say, even I struggle with the choices I make at times. But when I see the smiling faces of those who would have died otherwise, I know I am where I belong.'_

 _'Angela…'_

 _'I would not blame you, should you decide we are better off going our separate ways.'_

 _'You fool.'_

 _'P-pardon!?'_

 _'You understand that I love you, correct?'_

 _'Well, yes…'_

 _'I did not say those words lightly, do you understand_ that _?'_

 _'I…do…'_

 _'Then I think my answer is clear.'_

 _'You…would come with me?'_

 _'Wherever you go, I wish to be exactly by your side. That is my truth, because you have become my world.'_

* * *

'Perhaps two minutes, Dr. Ziegler. Simon has always been a little fragile, so we may have lost him already. He's gone rather quiet, hasn't he?'

She reached and gripped at the side of Simon's table. Angela grit her teeth as she pulled herself up and shakily extended a hand to the unconscious agent. His stomach was a mess; much like Angela's had been. She closed her eyes and focused, allowing the power she wielded to flow through her and into the suffering man before her.

'Oh, my God…' Moira uttered, absolute disbelief in her voice, for once. 'You monster, Dr. Ziegler. You complete and perfect ethereal devil!'

* * *

 _'Leave me, Angie…'_

 _'Never! Never! Take my hand!'_

 _'Even if I did, I'd bleed out before we took two steps. Heh…'_

 _'N-no…'_

 _'It's okay. Really. You're alive. I feel a bit better knowing that.'_

 _'Please…!'_

 _'Live a full life, Angie. Don't forget me. Be happy. That's all I ask.'_

 _'I-I can't. Not without you…!'_

 _'Sister's orders. You cannot deny them.'_

 _'I…I…'_

 _'Don't cry. Please don't cry.'_

 _'…'_

* * *

Angela was on her own table anew, strapped in and thirsty. How long had she been out? Where was she again? Why did her body hurt so? What about Simon? Right. She was in Moira's care.

'Finally.' The woman mumbled, tapping at her computer before standing and moving toward Angela. 'To think you would digress this much since I saw you in action last. Truly a pity.'

'Sorry…to disappoint you…' Angela managed, finding _some_ satisfaction in the way the other doctor's eye twitched.

'Still have the energy to oppose me, evidently? Well, no matter. The experiments are over. I don't desire to waste any more time. Thank-you for your co-operation.'

'Solved the mysteries…of all my research, have you?'

'Admittedly, it is all not completely clear, but I suspect I merely require my proper workspace and subjects to practise numerous theories on before I replicate something of your life's work.'

'Congratulations…' Angela breathed coarsely.

'You don't believe I can do it?'

'I…never said that.'

'You implied it with your tone.'

'Defensive, aren't we? You…you realize that shows a lack of confidence. How unlike you.'

'Hmph.' Moira snickered to herself. 'Fareeha Amari.' She started suddenly, and now Angela's heart hurt alongside everything else. 'You continuously uttered her name when you fell unconscious. I'm curious as to why, although I can make an educated deduction despite my preconceived notions concerning where you stood relationally.'

'A bright…new addition to Overwatch.'

'A lover?' Moira almost cut Angela off, and the injured doctor tried to grin.

'Another…prospect of my life you will never replicate, yes.' There was no point in hiding it anymore if Angela spoke of her while unconscious.

'How sad.' Moira received the blow with some grace, although she equipped herself with her lethal toy once more. 'She just reached a new level of intrigue for me. Perhaps I'll place priority on her capture next in order to tinker with the data you've graciously provided for me today. How is her pain tolerance?'

Angela clamped her mouth tight, her eyes burning.

'Oh? A nerve at last.' Moira stepped lightly around Angela, now standing right next to her, her lean, snake-like features distorted as she gazed down upon her. 'And you are correct, Dr. Ziegler. I've never once taken a lover. Do you know why?'

Angela looked away, but her chin was roughly vice-gripped, forcing her to meet Moira's slits for eyes.

'Because one's emotions make one nothing but vulnerable.'

The cold mechanism rested square on Angela's head then, and she blinked, true panic striking her suddenly, for this drastic step certainly wasn't in her presumed calculations. She couldn't revive herself. Her nanomachines weren't developed enough to…to…!

Fareeha. Fareeha. Fareeha.

'Mm. You didn't suspect me to go this far, Dr. Ziegler? Well, you were never very good at reading others. We all have our weaknesses. Unfortunately for you, I have no limits when it comes to my path of science. Gabriel is proof of that. _I'm_ proof of that. How powerful are those funny little machines infesting your body? Can they repair a brain? I _do_ believe it's time to find out…'

Fareeha. Fareeha. Fareeha!

'Save…me…!'

* * *

 _'Your hand is so warm.'_

 _'As is yours, Angela.'_

 _'Your fingers are a little rough though.'_

 _'Ah. A product of all my training.'_

 _'Heh. It's quite attractive.'_

 _'You think?'_

 _'I do.'_

 _'Then I am thankful for the work the Egyptian army put me through.'_

 _'I like how strong you are.'_

 _'I love how intelligent you are.'_

 _'I admire your selflessness.'_

 _'I adore your desire to help others.'_

 _'Your skin is gorgeous.'_

 _'Heheh. Your eyes mesmerize me.'_

 _'I can't appreciate your smile enough.'_

 _'Oh, I feel the same, Angela. There. You have slight dimples in your cheeks. Too adorable.'_

 _'Hahah! You noticed?'_

 _'How could I not?'_

 _'…Fareeha?'_

 _'Hm?'_

 _'Don't let go.'_

 _'I won't.'_

 _'Don't let go of me, Fareeha.'_

 _'Angela?'_

 _'…'_

 _'Angela…?'_

 _'…'_

 _'Angela…!'_


	45. XLV: Tracer

Tracer

It wasn't completely out of the ordinary, but Lena was acting without really thinking things over as she dragged Widowmaker through Overwatch Gibraltar. She ignored the stares. She didn't have time for them. The Brit pushed onward until she arrived at the weapon's bay, where Torbjorn, Jack, and Zenyatta were presently organizing what appeared to be a strike squad of some kind, Lena recognizing some of them to be Masters at the very least. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't hoping Winston would be around to buffer her argument, but she couldn't rely on his influence all the time. She would make her case and move along, if necessary.

'Heya!' Lena started, the bubbly greeting as good an icebreaker as any.

'What the…?' Torbjorn was the first to grunt, and then Jack looked up, his light eyes hardened upon seeing Widowmaker.

'Tch. Winston playing favourites again, huh? Unbelievable.' He muttered somewhat simply. 'Put her back, Lena. I don't want to end the threat myself if I have to.'

'Not happening, Jack. Widow's got a bone to pick with Moira, and you need all the help you can get, right? Howabout you let me take a plane with the best assassin in the world over to our angel you willingly put into harm's way and I'll forgive you for keeping that completely daft plan from me. Deal?'

'When we capture Moira you won't think my strategy was so ludicrous.'

'And if Angela dies her blood is on _your_ hands.' Lena countered, and the room went quiet. 'You didn't tell me what you were doing because you _know_ I always put my team's safety above all else; above making a small dent in Talon's massive organization.'

'Then why do you have _her_ with you? She killed one of _our_ agents just recently. How could you possibly be concerned for the team's safety when you have a cold-blooded killer right behind you.' Jack turned to the collection of agents, nodding to them. 'Go. I'll be with you all in a moment. Get the transport ready.'

"Sir!"

The room cleared out save for the five remaining individuals. A prophetic omnic, three of the most valuable members in Overwatch, and one of Talon's very best.

'I don't have time to argue. You aren't taking her on this mission. I won't risk her snapping and hurting Angela.'

'Oh, _now_ you're worried about her!'

'You think it was an easy call!? Huh?' Jack broke, his voice rising and cracking with the age he now harboured. 'Angela agreed to it. I didn't _make_ her do anything. _Something's_ gotta change if we want to win this war. Talon is only getting stronger, and they hide themselves so well we can only defend every single time they attack. Enough! If we can gain the U.N.'s support after publicly saving Angela Ziegler, one of the world's most famous biologists and valuable humanitarian, then maybe, just maybe we can get some form of advantage rather than barely scraping by while Talon creates more weapons and successfully initiates the second Omnic Crisis.'

Lena grit her teeth, mostly because part of her _did_ agree with what Jack was saying. But still, was the risk worth it? Angela couldn't be replaced. Moira, more than likely, could, to some degree. If Angela was lost…

'I'll take a private vehicle. Just her and me. I gotta help Ange. I'm one of our best. Widow's one of theirs. Put us together and I have a feeling you'll be kinda happy with what happens. We _owe_ this to Widow, Jack. After what they did to her, how can we _not_ give her this chance?'

Jack's brow finally softened, and he gave Widow a sharp glance.

'I won't make that call. You know how I feel, Lena. If we're talking about blood on hands, well, letting her run wild risks yours getting even messier. Believe me, it weighs you down eventually…'

Lena felt that blow, and she took it in stride. She straightened up, ready to fight for Widow further, when the woman herself stepped forward, her more active presence putting Torbjorn and even Jack on edge.

'I've killed hundreds.' Widow began, her accent ever seductive even when saying something so morbid. 'I murdered my husband. I felt _nothing_ for the longest time. However,' She shifted her weight, staring down Jack. 'Your Lena did not give up on me. Not once. I was a monster. I still am. But Dr. Ziegler showed me light. Because of her, I am having this conversation with you now. Do I have the urge to kill all of you before you can hardly blink? _Quite._ Yet, I will not. I shall not. Why? Because of that same woman who is now in captivity. You speak of her dying? _If only_. That would be merciful. Might I ask how you would feel if she ended up like me? A killer against her will? Widowmaker 2.0. The woman who lived her entire life only wishing to save lives forced to take them forevermore. Moira is capable of that. You gave her the opportunity to twist your "angel" into the utmost of demons. I am offering a helping hand to bring her back. All I ask is that _I_ am the one to put an end to that mad doctor of Talon's.' Widow paused, her voice echoing in the weapon's bay, everyone shocked by her blunt words and graceful delivery save for, perhaps, Zenyatta, who almost appeared proud somehow.

'Imagine, if you will, that her obvious beauty isn't unnoticed by her Talon operatives. Imagine, if you dare, they have their way with her and gouge out any evidence of their sin. Heh. That would only be the beginning. Death? Foolish man. Death would be a blessing to that woman in the hands of that hell on earth. I know that hell. I won't allow another to experience anything of the like.'

'Spoken like a true hero.' Lena beamed.

'Don't push it.' Widow snapped back.

'If I may…' Zenyatta floated forward. 'Our spoken of angelic figure remains in captivity. Hesitating now would only serve to heighten her risk. I recommend we allow this born-again fighter to prove her resolve, for I am sensitive to such folly, and I perceive none within her. She could very well be the difference between success…and failure.'

Lena waited for Jack to respond, but he simply turned, took a moment, and then went to the primary weapon storage himself, taking Lena's twin pistols and Widow's sniper rifle, handing them both over without a word. He left then, and Winston's voice came on over the intercom.

"Um…Lena?"

'Yeah, big guy?' She answered, smiling at Zenyatta to which she received a victory sign from the unique omnic.

"I'm worried about the time it'll take to make it to Angela. Our calculations assume we should be fine, considering Moira will be, hopefully, unable to resist the temptation to run some experiments before doing anything irreversible, but I'm still concerned, and…well…we'll discuss the other thing once you're in the air."

Lena waved to Torbjorn and Zenyatta as she left with Widow, continuing her conversation with Winston as she went.

'I'm making my way to the docks as we speak.'

"Good. I…uh…I have a proposal."

'I'm willing to try anything if it makes the chances of saving Angie better.'

"I had time while Overwatch was disbanded and…er…I made adjustments to it."

'To what?'

"The Slipstream."

Lena stopped, Widow bumping into her the stall was so sudden. Her chronal accelerator seemed to pulsate in response, and flickering disassociation made her sick. Speaking of hell on earth…

'Tracer…?' Widow asked, concern in her voice that Lena wish she could've enjoyed more.

'R-right. Makes sense. That would do it, wouldn't it?'

"Yeah…"

'Done. I'll pilot it.' Lena didn't think about it, because if she did, she couldn't take another step. She promised herself to live everyday to its fullest with no regrets. If she didn't take this opportunity, Angela could be lost forever. No. She wouldn't let a little fear stop her. She wouldn't let the terror of becoming trapped in nothingness, watching the world move on without her stop her.

"Are you sure?"

'Nope. But ain't got a choice now, do I? How long would it take us to make it to Angie with that thing?' Lena moved forward again, grabbing Widow's wrist as she did so. The woman stopped her, scowled, and took her hand, which was embarrassing, because Lena was shaking, and she didn't want to be seen so vulnerable.

'What is this?' Widow asked, but Lena just gave a nod of her head and went on with Winston.

"Huh?"

'Nothing, big guy. We're almost at the docks.'

"Oh. Good. If all goes well, it won't take you longer than an hour or less."

'If all goes well. Right. Bloody hell…'

'Tracer. Do not ignore me.'

"Um…"

'It's fine, Winston. Which unit is it in?'

A garage hummed open, and Tracer's throat went tight at the sight of the new and improved Slipstream. It was small, but Lena didn't doubt its capabilities. She always loved flying, but ever since the incident that shaped her world as an eventual hero of Overwatch, she was much more hesitant to pilot such aircrafts unless completely necessary. With Angela's life on the line, there was only the absolute need to put Lena's fears away and press on.

'Alright. We're getting in. Come on, Luv.'

"I'm linking Angela's secondary tacker with your onsite map. Moira destroyed the decoy, but didn't bother doing a thorough scan for the possibility of another, I think. I made it out of plastic as well, and inserted it in her skin behind her right ear. If the coordinates are correct, they're still in Iraq, but a fair distance from the main sector of Oasis. It's a somewhat secluded area, which makes our lives easier."

'Wicked.' Lena flipped some switches and initiated the aircraft. Thankfully, Widow seemed to have given up on prying, and simply searched the craft for spare clothing, to which she found some fairly modest Overwatch standard gear.

'Don't look.' She said quietly.

'Sure thing, Luv.' Lena breathed, her air coming out sporadically. 'Purring like a kitten, Winston.'

"I can hear that. I ran so many tests it doesn't surprise me in the least. All should be well, Lena. Take it out and save Angela."

'Roger!' Lena gripped the handles to the steering panels and felt the aircraft accelerating. The engine sounded vaguely like her own chronal accelerator, and Lena nodded to herself before calling out to her partner in crime.

'Better hold on to something, Luv. I'm about to hit it.'

'So be it.' Widow climbed into the chair next to Lena, having only bothered to change into the pants and shirt issued to every grunt Overwatch had. Somehow, however, she still looked overly attractive.

'Onward!' And Lena guided the aircraft to the runway, punching it into full gear before her whole body was pressed into the chair, her face feeling compressed for but a second prior to the onboard level adjusters working their magic and stabilizing everything.

'Heheh! Blast off!' Lena was terrified but also elated at once. The Slipstream was one of the fastest crafts in the world on its own, but it also had a warp function which, admittedly, Lena was nervous about using. It's what went wrong last time. She didn't want to put Widow through anything else, but it was the only way to get to Angela posthaste. Her hand trembled reaching for the button that would allow her to physically jump through a temporary wormhole.

"You'll need to jump a total of three times. I'm programming the coordinates now. Don't do anything yet. It'll take me approximately five minutes to do it perfectly. I'll be right back. Winston out."

A beat, but Widow's sultry voice started, anger evidently filtered through it.

'What are you hiding from me?'

'Nothin', Luv.'

'Oh? And now you lie? _Unforgivable_.'

Lena didn't catch the last word laced with irritation, but she could make an educated guess. Genuine hurt was in Widow's tone, and it instantly made Lena shake off any apprehensions or reservations. She really did care about her.

* * *

 _'You're really sexy when you get behind the wheel, you know that?'_

 _'Whoa! You think? I mean, I've always loved driving things, so, I guess it makes sense, don't it?'_

 _'You get this glimmer in your eyes. It's really handsome.'_

 _'Oi! Someone take note! Em's givin' me compliments left and right!'_

 _'Stop it. You know I admire you.'_

 _'Well, who wouldn't? A gal who used to work for a now criminal organization who can't hold a normal job for longer than a month because she gets stupefied by boredom? Right. Right. I'm a keeper.'_

 _'Ugh. Stop it. I hate it when you get like this. I was just trying to give you some encouragement.'_

 _'…I know, Beautiful. Sorry. I do appreciate it. Jus' a little sensitive sometimes these days, you know?'_

 _'Don't I.'_

 _'I'm gonna pull over here, kay?'_

 _'In the middle of nowhere?'_

 _'Yeah. In the middle of nowhere.'_

 _'…Why?'_

 _'Heh. Why do you think?'_

 _'Oh, bloody hell. Really? Now?'_

 _'No time like the present. You don't wanna?'_

 _'…I didn't say that…'_

 _'God. When you get shy like that…Oi! Pulling over!'_

* * *

Why now? Why was she thinking about her now? She had been doing so well, yet…

'The last time I flew one of these things I…sort kinda disappeared. It's why I wear the glowy thing here. My chronal accelerator anchors my physical body to the real world. Let's me do neat tricks to impress the ladies, too. Without it…I basically go ghost. You got a taste of it during the last battle, I guess? Thought I was a goner, didn't you?'

Widow didn't answer right away, taking time to digest the information, as she tended to do now that Amelie was showing through more and more. She was careful with her words. The total opposite of Lena who, on occasion, ate her foot at the worst times.

'I see. I…vaguely recall reading notes regarding your situation, but I can barely recollect the specifics. I only knew I was expected to kill you. At the time, your past or circumstances meant nothing to me.'

'Oh? But now you totally care about little ol' me?'

'I do.' Widow replied quickly, making Lena's heart jump. 'To an extent, in any case.'

Right. Widow had given her answer. Maybe distracting her mind with thoughts of Emily wasn't the worst thing Lena could do. It would be less invasive to Widow's recovery if she cut back on the flirting, that's for certain.

'So, yeah, sorry for not explaining things earlier. I…uh…'

'Don't like burdening others with your own troubles. _How naïve_.' Widow crossed her arms, turning away. 'For someone willing to risk life and limb for an assassin ordered to kill you on sight, you have a disturbing view of your own wellbeing and mental health. You are permitted to lean on others, surely.'

'I do. I do…' Lena swallowed, realizing Widow was more correct than not. 'Maybe not.'

'Maybe not, indeed.'

'It's just not how I do things.'

'Hiding your fears and apprehensions cannot be healthy.'

Lena blinked, overcome with emotion abruptly. She used to talk to Emily about everything, but ever since joining Overwatch, she didn't have the same kind of outlet. She wanted to bottle up the hurt and pain, but the Slipstream was bringing memories and scenes back to the forefront of her mind. She sucked in her bottom lip, and asked a question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

'Then…could I talk to you here and there? A-as a friend, of course.'

A long, torturous beat.

'…You may.' Widow responded at last, and Lena couldn't help smiling, her eyes on fire as Winston's voice came on over the intercom again.

"Coordinates logged and transferred. Slipstream shows data received. You can make the jumps within certain frames of time. The window of opportunity is approximately five seconds." He paused, and Lena glanced to Widow, the woman still not looking at her. "Between jumps, the Slipstream needs about fifteen to twenty minutes to recharge and prepare for another teleportation. If all goes well, you'll be in Iraq near Angela within an hour. Are you ready, Lena?"

'Born ready, big guy.' She tried to convince herself anyway.

"Good. Then on cue…"

Lena gripped the handles guiding her aircraft, and then a light flashed near a switch and button. She flipped one and mashed the other without thinking about it further. She was used to blinking and even recalling, but this sensation was on a whole other scale. It felt as though her body was being split in two and forced through a grater. Lena tried to scream, but nothing came out and, like a dream, she snapped back to reality before she knew what had truly happened.

'Whoa…!'

"You're okay!?"

'Yep! You did it, Winston! Heheh! It worked great!'

"Oh, thank goodness. The simulations showed almost no margins for error, but they're only numbers, and we both know not everything can be based off them, right?"

'Don't we know it.' Lena looked to Widow, and the woman coughed, hunching her shoulders over. 'You okay, Luv?'

'…Fine.'

"She can't be fine after that. Disorientation is inevitable. Shift the plane into autopilot and offer her some water and medicine from storage. I'll make sure everything's fine on my end until the next jump."

'Roger!' Lena did as she was told, making the appropriate adjustments to control before she unbuckled herself and went to Widow, touching her shoulder gently. 'You heard the guy; got somethin' for you back there. I'll be right back.'

'I won't refuse such service.' Widow responded, although she sounded reluctant.

Lena smiled distantly, and did as she said. The initial fear of losing herself again had been sedated for now, but there were still two more jumps, and until she was fighting for Angela on solid ground, the anxiety wasn't completely going away. She found the reserves easily enough, and brought them back to Widow, offering her water and pills to help with nausea.

' _Thanks_.' She said in French, and Lena had to wonder if she was being teased somehow.

'Got a little taste of what I feel every time I blink, huh? Although my movement is on a _way_ smaller scale.'

'How troublesome.'

'Ah. You get used to it.'

'I suppose…'

Lena lingered, but inwardly slapped her cheeks, returning to her seat. Some moments passed, and Widow began speaking again.

'I…have reservations about this mission.' She started, almost too quiet to hear.

'Oh?'

'I require your help should my fears become a reality.'

'Sure thing, Luv. What is it?'

Lena expected the pause, and was satisfied when it occurred. Amelie was choosing her words again.

'Should I lose myself, as I did before, I am counting on you to stop me. Understand?'

Lena had a feeling it was something like that. Still, her chest ached at the thought.

'You'll be fine.'

'I shall try to be, certainly, but I need you to promise to disable my means of combat if I lose myself. Seeing Moira will likely trigger some restrained memories, and I could go berserk once more. Do not let me hurt anyone but the enemy. Take out my arms and legs, or place me unconscious completely. Whatever is necessary.'

Lena nodded to herself. Widow…Amelie was trusting her with this task. She suspected it took a lot for her to ask as much. She would respect the effort required.

'Sure thing, Luv.'

'Mm? No refusal?'

'I know exactly where that would get me. No. I'll do it. I don't want to see you so sad again. It's heartbreaking.'

'You act as though you know me.'

'I kinda do now, Luv. I mean, we've been through a lot, you and me, and I pay attention to the little things.'

'Hmph. More observant than I would give credit for.'

'Aw. Thanks, pretty lady.'

Widow chuckled just slightly, and then finally turned to Lena, eyeing her closely, making the younger woman blush just a touch.

'Are you…well?' She asked so very simply, yet Lena basked in the question, trying not to grin from ear to ear.

'Yeah. I'm doing okay.'

'But you are still nervous?'

'A bit.'

'Hm.' Widow grinned in her small way, resting her back against the seat proper now. 'It is nice to know I am not alone in these emotions, then.'

'A touch easier when you're with someone, huh?'

'I suppose that's true.' Widow coughed into her hand and closed her eyes. 'Give me a warning before we jump again.'

'You got it.'

'And…let me know if you need me. I'm… _ahem_ …here.'

Lena covered her face and shook her head. She looked to Widow and observed her profile, her pointed features and curves inevitably tempting even in such a basic sitting position. She had been through so much, yet she still had the grace of only the most upper class. How could Lena ever think she had a prayer with a woman so blatantly out of her league? Stupid. She had made a fool of herself.

'That doesn't mean you can stare at me, Lena.' Widow muttered, cracking one eye open and glaring to the side.

Lena. She was starting to call her that more now. Lena supposed it wasn't all in vain. Amelie needed a friend more than anything. Someone that wouldn't betray her or let her down. Lena could do that. Lena _would_ do that. She deserved it. Amelie deserved so much more than what Lena could ever provide, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.

'Heh! Caught in the act. My bad.'

'…Yes. Your bad.' Amelie seemed to laugh a little, and Lena blinked, letting her mind wander more than she perhaps should've in that moment.

* * *

The other two jumps took place without any issue, but in between the teleportation leaps Winston had revealed some disturbing news. Another aspect of the mission that would benefit Overwatch was the publicity behind it, as Jack had mentioned offhandedly. There was hope that Angela Ziegler's abduction would be broadcasted worldwide, breaking headlines and notifying the world of Talon's most recent act of terrorism. However, it quickly became clear that manipulation of the networks or incident at its core was being facilitated by a much more powerful foe. Overwatch's grand rescue of Angela would help their image and potentially even propel the U.N. into supporting them again. This, unfortunately, was appearing to be but a dream, which evidently bothered Winston quite a bit as Lena and Widow drew closer to their destination.

'I can only assume Sombra is involved, that cheeky child.' Widow suggested, and Lena agreed immediately.

'She's completely daft when it comes to networking. If Talon wanted this stuff muffled, she could totally get away with something like that. I was kinda hoping she was done with them after that last stunt, but…Bloody hell. She's not a fun foe to have, and we can't out-buy her from Talon either…'

Widow sighed, cracking her neck.

'What's done is done. We need only focus on the task at hand for now, correct?'

'Right…' Lena allowed the aircraft to self-navigate its way to the predetermined landing point just barely on the outskirts of Oasis. They would have to travel on foot for the rest of the trip to avoid detection, and even when they made it to where Moira was holding Angela, there was no guarantee they could successfully break in with much ease.

"Assuming we're not being set up because they managed to find the second tracking device, I'll only communicate with Lena via her earpiece as necessary. This is a basic infiltration and rescue mission. From what my satellites managed to tell me, this isn't an impossible facility to break into. I suspect it's one of Talon's many buildings masked as normally as possible. Moira has influence in Oasis, and I doubt she had to do much work to gain herself such a lab for personal research. If only the government there knew…"

'I'm more concerned with the possibility that they are more than aware.' Widow mumbled.

'Right. Well, no more waiting around.' The Slipstream landed softly, and Lena handed Widow her gun. 'It's you and me, Luv. I'm counting on ya.'

' _Yes_. Who could have guessed from our first exchange we would be fighting side by side like this?'

'Hahah! Right? Not me.'

'Indeed.'

'But I'm glad you're on _my_ team now. Makes life a touch easier knowing my head isn't gonna get blown off when I round a corner.'

'Not having to check over my shoulder for a rapidly "blinking" monkey is something of a relief as well.'

'Hey! I'm totally not a monkey!'

"What's wrong with being a monkey?" Winston spoke into Lena's earpiece, making her jump.

'Nothing, Winston! Nothing!'

Widow readied her gun and took a moment to practise her aim, the way she handled the weapon erotic in the most bizarre way to Lena. She turned away, spinning her own twin pistols casually.

'Alrighty. A bit risky, but let's do what we can until the cavalry is here, right?'

'Precisely.'

Lena and Widow sighted their target building, and they crept around the perimeter, noting the guards outside and the grand city of Oasis just ahead as well. The construct didn't look like anything special, really. Blended in perfectly, actually. Without the tracking device, Lena would have never guessed Angela was being held here. She nodded to Widow, and the woman took up position, prepping to take out the quartet of guards moving about. They didn't appear to be overly threatening, but Lena was certain they had armour underneath their somewhat casual clothing.

'If possible, maybe not a kill?' Lena asked.

' _One shot…one injury?_ Heh.' And Widow began firing.

One…Two…Three…Four. They were all down within seconds of one another, and Lena blinked into the scene, knocking them out for good with the butt of her guns. She procured an access card easily enough, and waited for Widow to catch up.

'Let them eat cake.' Widow snickered.

'Huh?'

'Nothing. Perhaps a difficult reference for yourself.'

Lena grinned, loving every new angle she learned about Amelie. She winked at the woman, and approached the door.

'About to get a touch messy in here, I think. But busting in anywhere else will kinda make the stealth part of this mission null, right?'

"Oh…" Winston uttered deeply.

'What now, big guy?'

"Er…I guess she's…um…a little upset. Not listening to reason."

'I'm not following you.'

'What's he saying?' Widow asked, and as Lena turned to the ex-assassin, she caught something high in the sky in the corner of her eye. The nearly set sun gleamed off a collection of metallic pieces, and before Lena or Widow could communicate further, the being froze in midair and released a barrage of rockets.


	46. XLVI: Pharah

Pharah

Clicking. All she could hear was clicking. High-pitched clicking. Low pitched clicking. Chewing. More clicking. A high-pitched squeak. Click. Click. Click. Fareeha's heavy lids stretched open, and she could only see a warm ceiling, a coolant placed over her head and her whole body aching something terrible.

'Are you awake, Fareeha?' The question came tentatively, a slight accent accompanying the words.

'Yeah…' Fareeha groaned, completely disoriented.

'Oh, yay! Gave us a little scare, huh, Snowball?'

The machine beeped. Beeping and clicking now.

'Where am I?' Fareeha proceeded, too achy to move much.

'I brought you to my hotel room. It's quite large, and I hope you don't mind. They were going to take you to the hospital, but Winston told me we should keep an eye on you instead. A lot happened…'

Fareeha blinked, lifting her arms up and rubbing her eyes. The images came back to her. The black omnic. Moira. The sudden attack. Angela. Angela…? Angela!

'Angela!' Fareeha jolted up, and despite her entire body screaming against her she almost fell off the bed, Mei catching her and easing her back down.

'Now, now. Can't do that quite yet now, right? You need to rest.'

'Where is she?' Fareeha glanced around, trying to stand again. 'She's here isn't she?'

Mei looked to Snowball, and then shook her head.

'She went with Dr. O'Deorain…apparently to keep you safe. They were going to kill you otherwise, I guess. Winston reviewed the video your suit took. He's trying to broadcast it or something. I'm not sure about all the details. I just know I'm supposed to take care of you until…'

'I need to save her.' Fareeha cut the other girl off, her heart hurting now. 'She's alone with Talon? That's all I need to know. I'll rescue her.'

'That's the plan, Fareeha, but we need to get ready.'

'My suit…' Fareeha finally took in her surroundings, and was shocked to find her armour strewn about the floor and what appeared to be a giant rodent tinkering with it. Obviously, the creature was some form of genetically modified animal, like Winston, but Fareeha was a second away from slapping it off her suit; the only power she had which could be used to save Angela.

'Hammond's working on it now, but it'll take time. It was badly damaged. You have bruises and cuts all over you I had to try and take care of because of the damage done to your armour. Scary!'

'How much longer?' Fareeha demanded to know, but "Hammond" didn't even turn.

'He said about five to eight hours.' Mei smiled, but Fareeha pounded her fist into the bed, grunting loudly for multiple reasons and pushing her face into her hands. This couldn't be happening. Angela was taken under her watch. If she was hurt…

'God…' Fareeha's lips quivered, images of her princess drenched in blood at the hands of Talon plaguing her mind. 'Please, no. Not her…'

'Fareeha?'

Mei's voice was a muffled sound of nothing. It was all settling in. Angela was gone. She might even be lost completely. Their relationship had only just begun. It was too perfect. Fareeha knew she was unbalancing the scales of her life. She had been blessed beyond compare, and the world demanded a price be paid. But not Angela. Not someone who had dedicated almost every waking hour to bettering the reality of others. It wasn't right. It didn't make sense. How could this turn of events possibly be fair?

'Angela…' The tears were coming now. How long had it been since she felt such perfect despair?

* * *

 _'Killed in the line of duty. Reports say she was beat by another sniper. Hard to believe. She was the best…or so we all thought. Who could have possibly…?'_

 _'Shh. Quiet. Um…Hi, Fareeha. Didn't see you there.'_

 _'Where is she?'_

 _'Hm?'_

 _'My mother. Where is she?'_

 _'Oh…uh…well…'_

* * *

She was that important already. What Fareeha felt for Angela was on par with her feelings for her mother and the reality that she had been killed. If she lost Angela…The thought was mortifying. She was already her best friend. She had never been more honest and comfortable with anyone in her life. They had made love, and it was perfect.

Wait.

Those lingering gazes. The unfinished sentences. The instigation of such raw, intimate physical contact. Angela had known. She knew this was a possibility. She went with Moira totally aware it might be her last time with Fareeha. Why didn't she say anything? The answer was obvious. Fareeha would have taken her and ran. She would have aborted the mission immediately. Then again, Fareeha was also conscious of the risks. So, what was the difference?

'Fareeha!' Mei shouted. How many times had she said Fareeha's name before the woman heard her?

'What?' Fareeha said breathlessly.

'It's Winston. Your phone was broken in the fight, but he called mine. Are you okay to talk to him?'

Fareeha took the communication device without a word, lifting it to her ear and steadying her airflow.

'Fareeha Amari.'

"Hi, Fareeha. Are you okay?"

'Physically I am sound.'

"But you're compromised emotionally. I understand. I've never seen Angela so close with someone so quickly. It was nice…"

'Yes. It was.' Fareeha took a moment, gathering herself. Even all her military training barely sustained her composure. Every other thought was of Angela. Her blue eyes. Her sneaky smile. Her teasing remarks. What Fareeha wouldn't give to be made hilariously uncomfortable by one of her jesting remarks.

'I have to save her.'

"That's the plan, Fareeha. I had Hammond meet up with Mei for this very reason. He's an old friend, and although he can be a bit mouthy, he's a skilled mechanic. He'll have your suit ready in no time, and then you can do everything in your power to help Angela, if you wish. Your suit will be able to track her, and from what I'm seeing here, her location isn't _that_ far from your current one."

Fareeha nodded, her heart aflutter with the good news. Yet, an oddity pinched at her brain, and something in the way Winston delivered the news simply seemed off. Fareeha wasn't a professional at reading the rhetoric behind words, but she wasn't an idiot either, and she could work with information, or lack thereof, relatively well.

'…Was this planned?' She asked instinctively before registering why she even did so.

A pause in the phone, and Fareeha felt her blood quicken in immediate anger.

'Did you expose Angela to such a risk on purpose?'

"It…was a possibility we were all aware of. We wanted to uproot a piece of Talon, and capturing Moira is a critical part of the organization to start with. I gave my consent, and so did Angela."

'Fareeha? What's happening?' Mei's distant question pried, but Fareeha could hardly hear her. Her temples were throbbing, and the phone was shaking against her ear.

'Who proposed the plan?'

"It doesn't matter. I agreed to it."

'Winston!'

"I would never force Angela to do anything. She was aware of the risks, but she's seen this kind of fight before, and she understood that something needed to change this time. Talon can't keep having the upper hand. I already have a squad moving in, but I doubt they'll be able to make any drastic moves easily, since the facility we suspect Angela is being held in is still technically within Oasis' jurisdiction. Moira planned this all very well. She's quite protected. Only the best will be able to infiltrate. You must be careful. Getting close will be difficult."

'No…' Fareeha shook her head. Did she really think she could do it all on her own? Winston was right; just making it to Angela wasn't enough. Could she fight another black omnic alone? What about the multitude of Talon agents surely protecting this golden opportunity for Moira?

"Fareeha." The monkey went on. "Angela told me about the two of you. I…understand your pain. I do. But this is the reality of war. With great risks come greater rewards. We had to do something."

The fact Winston knew about her relationship with Angela didn't bother her as much as the following claims. Those weren't Winston's words. Fareeha knew that kind of mindset all too well from being in the army.

'Jack. He orchestrated this.'

"Er…"

'He fed her to the wolves! That bastard!'

"I'm not one to say anything about letting your emotions get the better of you, but…"

'I'll save her.' Fareeha decided. 'I'll save her or die trying. Amari out.'

She couldn't talk to him anymore. Winston was right; her emotions were running rampant. Until her suit was ready, there was nothing for it. Fareeha would have to wait. It would be agony. She couldn't imagine doing _anything_ knowing Angela was possibly in pain or worse.

Mei could be heard in the background having an extensive conversation with Winston, but Fareeha's ears were ringing, and she managed to make her way to Hammond, the strange rodent tinkering away with dexterous ease.

'How much longer, my friend?' Fareeha tried to calm her voice, but when the little guy raised his hand with a squeak, indicating five more hours, more than likely, Fareeha almost broke down right then and there. How long had she been out? How much longer would Angela have to endure whatever sick experiments Moira forced upon her?

'T-thank-you…' Fareeha managed. Getting angry would be a foolish reaction. She somewhat limped her way to the door of the hotel room. 'I need some air.' She declared, and didn't wait for an answer from anyone.

* * *

Fareeha didn't want to stray far from Mei's room. The moment – the second – Hammond was finished with her suit, she would go. However, she was a mess, and hated anyone seeing her in such a state. She was obscenely upset to the point of lunacy at the thought of Angela being hurt. Never before had she felt such devastation, and the fact she could do nothing about it in this moment borrowed a hole in her heart and simply continued to ravage any semblance of normalcy. She couldn't distract herself either. One moment she was thinking of how beautiful and charming Angela was, and the other second a flickering of torture and agony upon the same visage stabbed her brain from every angle.

She wiped her eyes over and over again, a silent sobbing escaping her lips and black mascara covering her arm. She couldn't stop it. This helplessness was overwhelming her. Fareeha could barely stand. She almost forgot to breathe. Her mother's "death" had a similar effect, but even that – even that – didn't compare, because it was final. It was done. She couldn't change her mother's fate. Angela's future _relied_ on Fareeha's capabilities. Every second counted. Every second she wasn't with Angela her princess was enduring pain.

'God help me…' Fareeha whimpered.

'God is dead.' A voice answered immediately, and Fareeha looked up, embarrassed by her state of being, but numb and uncaring at the same time. It was like a dream, viewing this figure through her tear-filled eyes.

'But that is fine. Reality bends to _my_ will. God is unneeded.'

Satya Vaswani. The hard-light technician. Her work had been brilliant during the presentation. If Angela was with her, this conversation might have been more intriguing. Yet, Fareeha could barely find her voice, and as she struggled, the woman before her avoided eye contact as well, strangely distant as she stood a little awkwardly.

'My apologies. My…presence may be unwanted, but I wish to help.'

'What?' Help? How? Fareeha didn't know this woman. Why would she make such an offer at seeming random?

'There may be time for further discussion in the future. Just know that I am an ally for the moment. I…worry about the motivations of my company and of Oasis, based on what I have seen today.'

Fareeha tried to compose herself, finally meeting Satya's gaze for but a millisecond before the woman glanced away, searching the ceiling and walls.

'May I?' She indicated the door near Fareeha, and the Overwatch agent saw no reason not to. The possibility of Satya being a threat hardly appeared possible.

Fareeha knocked upon the construct, and Mei let her and Satya in promptly.

'Oh! M-Ms. Vaswani! It's an honour!' The bubbly scientist bowed partially.

' _Good day_. But the honour is mine, Dr. Zhou. Your work is to be commended. We both want a better world. I just pray I am still pursuing that goal correctly. I can at least do this.'

Satya approached Hammond, focusing her eyes at last on something for more than a little fragment of time. The hamster squeaked, flailing his hands about and clicking his tongue.

'Your battle with Dr. O'Deorain is being covered up by powers I cannot fathom contacting within my lifetime. My…superiors claim ignorance as well. It is quite troubling, these events…' Satya fiddled with a cube of hard-light in her right hand, manipulating it in a fidgety way.

'That's what Winston was saying. Um…Winston's a friend. He networks and everything. Er…' Mei bit her tongue.

'I know who this Winston is. Vishkar…is well aware of Overwatch's movement as of late. They are cautiously observing, although I do not understand why, considering Overwatch is evidently the other side to Talon's presence.'

'Right!?' Mei practically yelled, her Snowball friend beeping enthusiastically.

'I will not say more than this: I believe Talon is not the true enemy. They are the face of evil, but there must be a bigger foe supporting them, and…I fear what we may find if that vein of thought is followed.'

Fareeha grunted, stepping forward, her chest caving in. She wanted to be patient, but…

'You said you could help?' She spoke with enough irritation that her mindset was obvious.

'Y-yes.' Satya nodded, blinking rapidly. 'May I, little one?'

Hammond screamed in frustration, throwing a couple of his tools and scurrying out of the way. He was a bit of a spitfire, it seemed, which annoyed Fareeha. She was trusting _him_ with such important repairs?

'It will be but a temporary fix, yet a fix nonetheless. Please equip your armour, and I will proceed from there. Our…talented friend has taken care of the essential pieces, I believe.'

Hammond yelped in seeming affirmation, and Fareeha got to work, shakily weighing her weakened form down. Mei helped, thankfully, and it only took approximately fifteen minutes to be fully donned in her wonderful suit, although it felt as though it might fall apart here and there.

'Now, allow me…' Satya's entire demeanor changed, and she practically danced as she manipulated the cube of hard-light she had been toying with earlier. Various slivers of the cube peeled off, and the pale, soft light moved about alongside Satya's rhythmic hand gestures, fastening themselves onto Fareeha's suit and tightening various spots with apparent ease. It was incredible seeing such mastery of the craft up close, and Satya sighed as she stepped back, moving her hands straight horizontally and then vertically prior to something like a small shield encompassing Fareeha's entire body, a satisfying, deep click signifying everything being finalized, it seemed.

Fareeha's heart quickened. Was this truly happening? How could she ever repay the woman?

'It is done.' She nodded. 'Hard-light has been used to re-enforce the damage. With this hasty of a job, however, it will not last forever. A day at most. Proper repairs will need to be carried out in time.'

Fareeha moved her limbs, the onboard computer booting up and facilitating her operating systems. She could tell her suit was compromised still, but it passed all the checks, and she smiled, removing her helmet.

'I can't thank you enough.' She said anxiously to the Indian woman.

'You can start by continuing the fight. I can do no more than this for now, but I will be in touch should I uncover anything further.' Satya's eyes shifted about. 'I…cannot linger. My absence will be noted soon enough, and I cannot risk further deviation.'

'If you ever need me, please do not hesitate to ask. I'll do everything I can.' Fareeha offered, at the very least.

'Thank-you. All of you. Good luck.' And the somewhat strange woman departed, vanishing as seamlessly as she arrived, a mirage in the desert of desperation.

'We can take a taxi to the outskirts of the city. Winston forwarded me Angela's location. It won't take – ' Mei began, but Fareeha lifted a hand in dismissal, placing her helmet back upon her head.

'No.' She refused, Winston's data filling up her visor's display and pinpointing the spoken of location. She had enough fuel to get there and at least create some distance from the facility once Angela was in her arms again. 'If what Satya says is true, I won't take the risk of being exposed to Oasis authorities. I leave from the roof. The fact you were able to smuggle me here is a feat in and of itself. I recommend you both leave this city as quickly as possible. Satya has given us time our enemies likely suspected we wouldn't have. Moving here and now is our best chance.'

'A-are you sure? I mean, they seemed willing enough to let me look after you.' Mei touched her chin, but Snowball beeped angrily.

'Your machine agrees, I think.' Fareeha grinned, focussing on what she would do now. 'Take the emergency exit and then a taxi to the airport. Get to Overwatch Gibraltar by any means necessary. Contact Winston and have him help you. I can't stay any longer.'

'Right. Right.' Mei nodded, fortunately capable of understanding when someone with more experience regarding such things was speaking the truth. 'Okay. You just…rescue Angela.'

'That's the plan.'

Fareeha didn't look back. Adrenaline fueled her sore muscles and joints. She opened the windows of the room and jumped out, her suit pushing her high into the air. The onboard map blinked with indicators, and she redirected herself as needed, bursting forward toward Mercy of Overwatch. Dr. Angela Ziegler. Her princess.

'I'll save you, Angela. I swear.' Fareeha muttered like a prayer, and as the wind pushed against the bottom half of her face, Winston's voice came on over the intercom.

"You're out already!?"

'I am. There was some unexpected assistance.'

"Thank goodness!"

'Yes.'

"Now, you might want to approach this delicately. As you get closer, the tracker is capable of syncing with your suit's abilities, narrowing the precise location of Angela down to almost her exact location. Tracer and Widowmaker are already nearly there as well, believe it or not."

'Pardon?' Fareeha's temple throbbed.

"I know. I know. But Lena has Widow under control for now. She wants to save Angela as much as any of us. She needs her to get better, after all."

'She is still unstable, correct?'

"…Somewhat."

'Then I'd prefer they do not help. I'll do it myself.'

"Fareeha…Don't forget who we're fighting. They're…they're not just some street thugs."

'And I am not just a simple civilian. Amari out.'

Enough. No risks. No more hesitation. Fareeha burned through her reserves, checking the numbers periodically and ensuring they remained accurate. She could see the facility in the distance, and her body felt a wave of anticipation. The tracker was creating a more detailed report as she got closer, and Fareeha knew she was personally running on fumes. She hadn't fully recovered from the black omnic attack. She was tired. She was stressed. She was emotionally unstable. Adrenaline kept her focussed, but it would only last so much longer. Would it be better to rendezvous with Tracer and Widowmaker? No. Widowmaker was a variable. No more risks. Taking on Talon herself was a better option than worrying about being shot from behind.

 _Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay._

She repeated the mantra over and over within her head, knowing she had to be at her best if she planned to truly solo this mission. It was the least she could do. Poor Angela. If only Fareeha was stronger. If only she had managed to get away with her before the black omnic had pinned her.

Enough. Regret solved nothing; action did. And Fareeha was doing everything within her power now. Her mother didn't teach her to be weak. She taught her to always face adversity with courage and confidence. There was no better time to practise such lessons, and Fareeha pushed her suit a little harder, the building within range soon enough.

'Angela…I'll save you.'

The grid within her visor populated with extreme accuracy, the tracking device sending data by the second until Fareeha could practically see the heat signatures of everyone within the facility. She breathed out shakily, knowing the next few minutes determined her future based on every action she took. She said one final prayer, and scanned the building, no less than one hundred men circulating the vicinity. Fortunately, Angela was alone with, presumably, Moira in a somewhat isolated sector, only a few guards nearby. Did she just not suspect an attack? No matter. Hesitate now and it could be all for not. Fareeha readied every rocket she had, her suit whirring into attack mode.

'Justice…' She murmured to herself, and glanced to find Tracer and Widowmaker already moving in. They had taken out the guards outside. Surely the rest would be alerted soon enough. The element of surprise would be removed entirely.

Now. Now, for the woman she cherished more than any other.

'…shall rain from above!'

The recoil shook her entire body, but Fareeha had learned how to maintain her altitude, and adjusted her stabilizers as needed. Approximately twenty rockets flew from her suit, and once the final one was released, Fareeha twisted in the air and dove like the legendary Horus. As the rockets made impact, Fareeha broke through the rubble, dust and pebbles flying all around her as electricity flickered across her visor. She found Moira, the woman's eyes widening in unfiltered shock, and pointed her hand cannon at the woman, sending one directly at her prior to ripping Angela from a bed, cords and wires snapping off her bloodied form and reddened dress.

'Haaah…!' Fareeha screamed, launching herself as high as her Raptora Mark VI would take her. The wind cut at the part of her face which was exposed, but she concealed Angela's with her hands, hoping the metal encasing her wasn't too uncomfortable.

Fareeha reached her maximum altitude, the nearly completely set sun glimmering over her armour, and as the Egyptian glided toward earth, she finally could take a moment to observe Angela's beautiful face. She hesitated, because what she would find in the next second literally shaped everything that came after. Her heart nearly stopped, and Fareeha's vision blurred in focus and backward before she finally checked Angela's state.

She was unconscious but breathing, if barely. Angela…was alive.

'Oh, God…Thank-you…Thank-you…Thank-you…' Fareeha held Angela tight, the tears streaming down her cheeks. As long as she was alive, there was hope. Whatever Moira had done, surely there was a way to reverse the damage. Angela. Angela. Angela. Angela!

Fareeha landed, and it was as though everything she had been through caught up with her. She could barely stand. Her legs gave out, and she found herself collapsing while holding her princess. They were between Oasis and the isolated facility. A road wasn't too far, with cars blitzing back and forth, but otherwise, there was a fairly vacant piece of dry land surrounding them. Fareeha managed to shuffle herself and Angela behind some natural cover, not wishing to be seen quite yet, and initiated communication again.

'Amari here.'

"Fareeha!? You sound…upset. Does that mean…?"

'Angela Ziegler is with me. Operation is a success.' A chill ran her spine. To say those words. She never wanted to report so fervently. Another weight hit Fareeha's whole form, but she grinned, listening to the excitement on the other line.

"Then there's no need to hold back. Thank-you, Fareeha. You've done well. We'll take it from here."

A click, and Fareeha took off her helmet, her breaths coming in rasps, her mascara painting her cheeks morbidly. She held Angela's head tenderly, staring at her with unparalleled passion, stroking her hair softly.

But then her heart jumped into her throat.

Blood was pooling within a grotesque hole that had been caked to her blonde mane. It was above her left eye. The bleeding wasn't stopping. Fareeha's suit was getting soaked from the other end of the wound as well. A puncture wound that penetrated Angela's head? Her skull? Her…brain?

Fareeha frantically ripped a piece of Angela's dress from the base and applied as much pressure as her weakened state could.

 _No. No. No. No. No. No…!_

'Angela?' Fareeha sobbed. 'Angela…?'

A white, shattering, ear-piercing ringing made Fareeha wince.

'Angela…!'

And the angel's small breaths ceased altogether.


	47. XLVII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

'There's no way they're not dating.' Lena laughed, and it was a strange thing to say once the last rocket had exploded, Fareeha already in the facility and wreaking further havoc. Was she implying Fareeha and Angela were an item? Were all women in Overwatch sexual deviants? Widow smirked. Of course not. She was being foolish. It may have helped her with her current thoughts, however, as Tracer winked at her and unlocked the entrance.

'Might as well take advantage of the chaos! Let's get in there, Amelie!'

Widow didn't correct her. There wasn't any need. She felt as thought Widowmaker and Amelie were finally seeing eye to eye. She readied her gun and nodded in affirmation. She could kill now, that would never change. But she could also save others. She had that power. Tracer had shown her multiple times what it meant to use one's abilities for good. She had, after all, used her skills to bring Widow to this very moment.

There wasn't any shortage of guards and Talon agents, but they were nothing against Tracer. She blinked through the halls, shooting at legs and arms while using the butt of her guns to finish off multiple foes. When Tracer failed to take out a grunt, Widow rose up from behind her or afar, every bullet that left her Widow's Kiss dropping one individual after the next.

She did not kill.

Her innards begged for it, but Angela's medicine continued to subdue the urge, and she managed the rest. It would be the difference between being Widowmaker completely, and successfully merging the new Amelie with what she couldn't change about herself just yet.

'Whee!' Tracer squealed, jumping through the air, three opponents closing in on her and Widow, alarms sounding throughout the whole base. As the girl was off the ground, Widow slowed the world with her cybernetic eyes, taking aim and shooting two bullets in near succession. One grazed Tracer's stomach, but both found their mark. As Tracer landed, she swiped the feet from under the final Talon agent, and had him out cold a second later.

'Thanks, Luv!' She waved, continuing in the direction of Fareeha's attack.

Such trust. Tracer _knew_ Widow would have her back during such a stunt. The realization sent a shiver through the sniper's chest, and she tried not to allow her newfound emotions to weigh her down.

Widow struggled to keep up with Tracer, but she fortunately didn't have to be exceptionally close to provide backup. Indeed, they cleared every room and hallway with ease, their abilities too much for the everyday grunts Moira had employed. It wasn't until Tracer stopped quite suddenly once she entered a somewhat larger room did Widow get the sense that they were in any kind of real danger. A black omnic, much smaller than the one that had attacked Overwatch Gibraltar, stood between the girls and the next hall, its presence demanding attention and respect despite its grotesque physical appearance.

'Tobias…name…My name…' It practically growled, bizarre teeth shaped within the black material forming its semi-humanoid form atop the mechanical skeleton within.

'Oi. Another one of these guys, huh? Probably faster than the one we danced with. Bloody hell. No time for this.' Tracer scowled, reloading her Pulse Pistols and groaning in annoyance.

'Is he…malfunctioning?' Widow questioned.

'All the better for us. Can't show mercy with these guys, unfortunately. You got my back, Amelie? I'm gonna do what I can and maybe stick a Pulse Bomb on him.'

'…Naturally.' Widow prepared her gun.

'Brilliant. Got one of Ana's juicers if things get hairy, but I'm near useless after the rush ends, so, I'd rather not, you know?'

Widow's eyes lingered on Tracer then, the girl's composure and attitude shining in a different light now that she knew more about her. It was silly to have such thoughts at this moment, of all times, but she found herself observing Tracer with much more sympathy and…affection. Sisterly affection? Perhaps. She wasn't certain. Tracer's existence was just sadder somehow to the sniper. She felt an overwhelming urge to protect her smile, because she had seen death, and was mostly who she was now because of the experience. She wanted to make Lena happy; the same way she had so adamantly sought to save Widow. What could she do, however…?

'Watcha lookin' at?' Tracer smiled mischievously.

'An annoyance.' Widow responded instinctively. She was embarrassed by the considerations, and lashed out to her own dismay. Luckily, Tracer took it in stride, as she tended to do, and shrugged.

'No way. You weren't thinkin' that, were you?' She teased, and Widow could only sigh angrily. 'Sorry, Tobias, but my friend here and I gotta get to Angela and Moira. Mind lettin' us through?'

'Moira…Moira is…my friend. Helped Tobias wake up. Must…protect…Heheh…Must…eat…!'

Widow barely had time to react. Tobias launched from his place and nearly teleported to Tracer, slamming the ground with his mechanical fist encased in black goo and uplifting the cement with seeming ease. Tracer blinked out of the way, just at the last minute, and Widow snapped her rifle, shooting with perfect precision, drilling a bullet into Tobias' neck and making the omnic twitch in potential discomfort. All it did, however, was change his focus, and the omnic lunged at Widow, his ability to move with such agility impressive for an omnic.

Tracer cut in, both feet planted into the omnic's face and sending him off a bit.

'Not nearly as heavy as the last one, huh?' She gasped.

'But much quicker. _Evade!_ '

'I can't understand you when you throw random French in there!' But Tracer and Widow both split, maneuvering away from Tobias' latest assault.

The omnic howled like a monster, and the black tar covering his body almost resonated with the anger, lashing about and creating a frightening, humanoid beast where a humanoid being used to be.

'We can't play with him too much longer. Fareeha might need our help, and we gotta do something about Moira!'

Widow's head twitched, a needle puncturing into her brain. Moira O'Deorain. She owed her much.

'Very well…' Widow confirmed. 'Give me a shot and I'll make it count.'

'Gotcha!'

Again. Tracer didn't question Widow's motivations. She burst from her location and entered the fray, unafraid of being betrayed or hurt. Widow truly understood where this young woman gained her credentials within Overwatch. She really was the sun of the organization. At the very least, she had quite convincingly become Widow's own light within the darkest of nights. She wouldn't let Tracer down. She wouldn't let herself down again.

 _Kill her._

Ah. She wondered when it would speak anew. The urging was but a muffle compared to what it used to be. Kill Tracer? Never. A passing notion of history. Kill Tracer? No. Save your breath. What Widow wished to do to Tracer now was quite the opposite, indeed. Protect Tracer. Uplift Tracer. Encourage Tracer. Widow owed Tracer her life. She would never forget what the young woman had done for her. Never. Kill Tracer? How absurd. Kill anything that threatened Tracer? Why, that could be arranged.

'Brought ya something!' Tracer declared, sticking a Pulse Bomb upon the omnic and recalling away. Widow knew the timing too well. The omnic reached for the bomb to dislodge it, but it was too late, and the natural E.M.P. that was built into such a device stalled Tobias momentarily, giving Widow precisely what she needed. She slowed her world again, her nerves stretched to their limit, and took aim, noting the way Tracer's slow-moving evasion allowed her to watch Widow work.

'I don't miss…' Widow muttered quietly to herself.

Two shots, both penetrating the omnic's eyes and crushing the innards within. For anyone else in the world, save for perhaps Ana in her absolute prime, the little slits that exposed Tobias' makeup within would be but wishful thinking to strike successfully. Talon had magnificently created the ultimate assassin, and now that same assassin fought against her creator.

This monster hardly sought acceptance. It only wanted revenge.

The black omnic screamed, the black tar pulsating like another living being. Tracer appeared next to Widow and grabbed her hand.

'No time to dawdle, Luv. Let's move!'

Right. Destroying a black omnic was a difficult feat. Would Widow's work be enough? They couldn't find out. Tracer was right. Widow used her physical prowess to keep up with the other girl, a new form of ecstasy filling the void that only killing could provide before.

The hallways leading to where Fareeha had attacked directly were empty. It was strange, really, until Tracer stopped quite suddenly, covering her mouth and indicating a singular corpse, half its face ripped apart. This horrific vision was followed by more and more bodies, the Talon agents seemingly disfigured by whatever had created the blood smears everywhere.

'Bloody hell…' Tracer whispered.

'Tobias, perhaps. Talon won't stop until they create the perfect demon, it would seem.' Widow sneered.

Tracer hesitated, glancing behind her from whence they came. Widow knew what she was thinking, and it annoyed her while simultaneously filling her with endearment.

'We cannot go back.' She stated clearly.

'I…I know, Luv. Come on.'

She wanted to save them. They were the enemy, but she wanted to warn the Talon agents of Tobias' rampage. Such softness. It would get her killed…unless Widow remained by her side to prevent an early death.

The two women finally made it to Moira's lab. It was evident, because it was completely in shambles. Tracer rushed about, searching for Angela, while Widow prowled through the broken machinery and piles of granite. It was nothing compared to the equipment Moira could work with in her primary facility, but it still reeked of the woman's lunacy, and Widow's brain recalled just how much madness the doctor exhibited when dealing with her.

'I think…Fareeha got her?' Tracer said hopefully.

A small cough made both girls jump, and Widow turned to the source, her eyes widening and mouth tensing at the sight of Moira, blood dripping down her forehead and the seemingly perpetual grin of superiority wiped clean off her terrible visage. She groaned pathetically, holding her stomach and acting almost delirious.

'Oh, my gosh! This is her, right? Moira?' Tracer needed to confirm, and Widow simply approached the doctor, her steps heavy and mind muddled.

 _Kill her._

Now, such a command wasn't so farfetched.

'Remember me?' Widow cooed confidently, looking down upon Moira and relieved to see the woman seemed to be gathering herself enough to understand where she was and who was before her.

'Hmm…One of my finest…subjects…' Moira uttered.

Widow saw that her torso had been demolished. Moira was quite literally holding her body together. Fareeha hadn't shown any mercy. Why on earth would Widow? Someone like Moira could still survive such an injury if left to her own devices. It was now or never. Revenge. Sweet, succulent revenge for destroying Amelie's life.

'She ain't your "subject" anymore.' Tracer stepped in. 'And you're coming with us! We'll getcha to spill everything about Talon, and then we're taking your evil organization down!'

A pause, with electricity still sparking periodically the only real sound present beyond perhaps Tobias' distant howls.

'That…hardly appears to be your companion's wishes.' Moira chuckled.

'Amelie. We _can't_ kill her. She's too valuable.' Tracer urged, and Moira only laughed more…although with some effort.

'You have them calling you "Amelie" now? How truly…pathetic.'

Widow snickered as well, but then snapped her foot across Moira's face, cracking the woman's head to the side and forcing an uncomfortable grunt from her.

 _Kill her._

'You can still speak with such arrogance?' Widow's eye twitched.

'Of course.' Moira grinned, licking the blood dripping from her mouth. 'If you believe…you'll ever be anything but a killer, you're wrong. Amelie Lacroix is a murderer. She killed her own husband, had an abortion, and escaped with another man, disappearing into the horizon forever. If you ever publicly show your face again, you'll be arrested and put away for life. You seem…to be under the misconception that a semblance of normalcy could ever be in your future. Heh. How wrong you are. Did this child feed you…such pretty lies? Talon is not to be trifled with.'

'No! There's always a way! Amelie can clear her name! I'll make sure of it!' Tracer yelled, but Moira's laboured laughter only made her sound more like a little girl having a tantrum.

'If Talon was your only enemy, perhaps. But alas, Overwatch remains the epitome…of ignorance.'

 _Kill her_.

'If Lena says she'll help me…that's all I need to hear, _my dear_.'

Moira blinked in temporary confusion.

'Oh? So…you _have_ changed. A riveting development…in its own right.'

Truthfully, Widow was struggling. Her body was beginning to shake. She was seconds away from strangling Moira, and she knew if she humoured the thoughts further she would have another breakdown. Just moving seemed like it would set her off. She couldn't look directly at Moira either. The room was shrinking, and black fuzz pulsated around her vision.

 _Kill her._

'Well, do what you will.' Moira rolled her eyes. 'Tobias is a failure. This facility is now useless. I'm your captive. Well played, Overwatch. To think…you would use quite easily your most valuable member as bait. Truly…it was unprecedented.'

There was a "but". Widow had known Moira long enough to recognize the fact she would have the last laugh somehow. She waited, and the ambitious woman did not let her down.

'However, might I ask you both: was it worth it? Talon…cares not for my fate, ultimately. I am even disposable by this point. Dr. Ziegler, on the other hand…can the same be said for her?'

A desperate pause, and Widow held her breath for what she knew would be Moira's finale.

'Angela Ziegler's death in exchange for my captivity? My…how deliciously deranged.'

'W-what…?' Tracer breathed.

'Unless, of course, her precious nanomachines can reconstruct her brain proper, but even then, will she even be Angela Ziegler anymore? Heheh…!'

 _Kill her._

' _Yes._ ' And Widow was on Moira, pinning the woman by the neck with her heel and slamming her fist into Moira's face over, and over, and over, and over until blood sprayed from her knuckle with every withdrawal.

'Amelie! No! Stop! S-stop! Amelie!' Tracer's distant plea faded.

 _Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her._

 _Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!_

'Amelie! Bloody hell!'

'Hgn…Heh…H-heh…Ngh…U-ugh…Heheh…!'

Why wouldn't she stop laughing!? Why!? She was dying by Widow's hand at last yet all she did was laugh. Blood splurged from her mouth, and her face turned purple, but she laughed all the while.

 _Yes. This is all you'll ever be. A killer. A monster. A cold-blooded murderer._

'Amelie…!' Tracer cut into the mauling, and Widow felt the young girl's face against her fist, the sensation and vision of Tracer stumbling backward, holding where the blow had landed with Moira's blood transferred to her skin instantly breaking Widow's state of berserk.

'T-Tracer…' Widow stammered, looking at the mess she had made of Moira's face, the woman somehow still giggling through the destruction.

'You…will always…always…be my little…pet.' Moira gurgled. 'And…without Dr. Ziegler…you'll never…know what living is…'

She fell unconscious at last, and Widow shook her head in dismay, unable to make eye-contact with Tracer as she spoke aloud.

'Perhaps…she's right.' Widow whimpered, but Tracer was next to her instantly, touching her face and beaming brightly despite the swelling already beginning to take place on her pretty little expression.

'Nah, Luv. She ain't right. Not one bit.'

Widow caught a glimpse of Tracer's visage, and saw her eyes were red and her jaw was tight. Right. She was accepting the news that Angela might have been lost. How horrific. They had such history together. Angela was one of the linchpins for Overwatch. If she truly died…

'I haven't been able to get in touch with Winston since we got in here. Might be a jamming field or something. Let's take her and go before Tobias decides he isn't gonna stay down. Sound good?'

Widow nodded, volunteering to take Moira since she had more strength to offer between her and Tracer. She followed the other girl through the back door, taking the exit and navigating about the rubble left behind by Fareeha. Once both women created enough space between themselves and the facility, circling back to the Slipstream, Tracer began speaking aloud, seemingly connecting to Winston at last.

'Yeah. We got Moira. Might want to let Jack and his boys do a sweep of the place when they get here. Yep. Another black omnic. Could still be alive and kickin'. Bloody rambunctious. Uh-huh…'

Widow hated this feeling. Just when she had decided to return the abundance of favours she owed Tracer, she hurts her and now can't find the words to support the woman when she needs it most…again. Perhaps Moira was right. Perhaps the voices were always right.

'R-really…? Like, really? A-are…we sure or…?'

They were talking about Angela. Tracer's tone shifted an octave. It was breaking. Her speech patterns were becoming erratic. She was in pain. She was scared. She was about to despair.

'O-oh. Oh, thank God. B-but…it's still pretty bad, huh? God. At least…at least there's hope, right? Bloody hell. Oh, God…'

Hope? Relief?

'Angela's breathing again.' Tracer directed the comment to Widow, and the woman almost dropped Moira in shock. 'But…we could lose her at any second. We gotta get to Fareeha and bring her and Angela back to base. Oasis isn't safe, Winston said. Things are way crazier than any of us thought.'

'Of course…' Widow didn't know what to say. She was still processing everything that had happened. She needed her medicine. She needed…many things…

'Is it okay to jump with Angela on board? Uh-huh. Yeah…I guess so. Okay. Send me Fareeha's coordinates. We'll get this done in a jiffy. Thanks, big guy. Tracer out.' Tracer continued leading Widow, scanning the area as they went. 'You good carrying her?'

'I am…' Widow spoke lowly.

Silence. Just the distant sounds of Oasis to be heard. Why didn't Tracer say anything about what happened? Widow had lost herself. True, it could have been much worse, but she still went ballistic, hurting Tracer – however minor – in the process. She almost wished Tracer would reprimand her in some fashion.

'You did amazing back there, by the way.' Tracer finally said, yet it was the complete opposite of what Widow had expected. She was dumbstruck again. Speechless. Thus, Tracer went on. 'Seriously. No joke. I mean, you even held back on killing any of the Talon agents. And don't get me started on Moira there.'

'I…struck you.' Widow barely choked out.

'Huh? Bah. That was nothing. I can take a lick. Besides, I was just as close to going nuts on Moira. She's way crazier than I expected. Scary, really. No remorse. Nothing. Bloody daft. After everything she did to you…I'm just really, really impressed you didn't take her out before I could say a thing. Part of me…maybe kinda wanted you to. Heh. Yikes. That's hard to admit, you know? But she tried to kill Angela. She royally messed up your life. You two are super important to me. It was a tough situation all around.'

Widow couldn't answer Tracer from that moment on. Her chest was imploding, and her knuckle ached. The two women made it to the Slipstream within half an hour, binding Moira while applying some minor first aid to ensure she would survive the trip. The woman obviously had some method of restoring herself to some degree, because any normal human would have been dead. Traces of what appeared to be a golden biotic substance lingered over her wounds, although the source of such healing was long gone, likely back at her lab.

Once Moira was settled, Tracer started up the Slipstream, the engines humming and the bird ready to take flight within minutes.

'Fareeha isn't too far from here. She knows to wait for us. Once we have her and Angela, we're home free with minimal casualties…specially if Angela pulls through.'

'Yes…' Widow glanced around anxiously.

'You okay, Luv? Not still worried about what happened back there, are ya?'

'I'm not.'

'Then what's up?' Tracer hit a few more switches, and Widow could only watch as she did so. She really did need her medicine. Her mind was becoming confused. Yet, it wasn't the worst notion in the world, despite her adamant rejection of the concept before. Widow stepped forward, her neck tensing, and then pivoted away to her seat, breathing deeply and chancing glances at Tracer prior to her taking her own chair and buckling up.

'Nothing. Let's go…'

'Roger!'


	48. XLVIII: Mercy

Mercy

 _She was always different. Her mother made this abundantly clear from the moment she could understand her. She made it obvious that she had high expectations. She didn't quite comprehend the toll such silent demands took on one sister while the other quietly fell into place within the familial hierarchy. It was the unfortunate truth of every family with more than one child._

 _One always excelled. One always didn't._

 _Unfortunately, for Angela's sister, there was no comparing to genius._

* * *

 _'These scores are remarkable! The best since far before my time! We'll take her! A scholarship will be provided with joy!'_

 _She was accepted to no less than ten of the finest schools her country had to offer. She didn't decide which one she would attend. That decision was made for her._

* * *

 _'Why aren't you going to class, Angie? Mother is furious. The school says you ask to use the washroom and never go back to the lesson. And if you're in class, you're never listening. Just doodling. It's crazy!'_

 _'Because you're not there with me.'_

 _It was the truth. Despite the potential rift that could have easily formed, Angela and her sister were closer than most. She adored her sister. She wanted to always be with her. Being forced to go to different schools diluted any passion Angela had. Her natural intellect in relation to the great expanse of the medical field remained unpolished the moment she began such elite treatment._

 _'Don't waste this chance, Angie. You could save the world. I'm not kidding. I heard mom talking to one of your professors. You're a once in a lifetime prodigy. They can tell. You're different.'_

 _'I don't want to be different. I just want to be with you.'_

 _'I don't get you, Angie…'_

 _She was smiling when she said this. She was happy. She was always happy when she was with Angela. The feeling was mutual. They weren't that far apart in age. They looked a little similar, too, although Angela's sister gave her outer appearance a little more attention._

 _'I don't get myself sometimes.'_

 _'Heh. Well, just think about what you could do for the world if you really_ did _take your studies seriously. You could cure cancer! Wouldn't that be something?'_

 _'Maybe…'_

 _'Just think about it, okay? Think about what you're capable of.'_

 _'Hmm…'_

 _'Sister's orders.'_

 _'…Okay.'_

* * *

 _'If you don't start putting forth some effort, Angela, you will be grounded until you do. Do you understand? You're wasting too many educators' time. It's embarrassing. Utterly shameful.'_

 _'My apologies, Mother. I'll do my best starting tomorrow.'_

 _'You better mean it this time.'_

 _She did not. She was barely through middle school, and although she passed the tests with relative ease, she did so by her own merit, and without the help of her teachers. They wished to refine her and mold her, giving her practical experience and hands-on applications, but Angela refused it all. She simply wanted to return home to her sister._

 _Her mother apparently discovered what was holding Angela back, after all this time, and made the appropriate changes._

* * *

 _Once Angela's sister moved in with their father, Angela stopped attending classes altogether. When she wasn't directly escorted and monitored, she was on her own, searching the world and her mind for purpose. A genius. A prodigy. Such esteemed titles meant nothing to her. They never had. She happened to score perfect on a progressive capability test in medicine and biology and was, from that point forward, destined for greatness apparently._

 _Angela wanted to run away. The life she was being forced to lead was stifling. It always had been. She often wished she could go back in time and warn herself about that ridiculous placement test that solidified her current state of affairs. She found comfort and unfiltered love in her sister. She wanted nothing but to be Angela's friend with not an ulterior motive in sight. She was the only one who gazed at Angela without a semblance of hunger and ambition. Angela was her sister, and vice versa. That's all they were to one another, and Angela loved her deeply for that._

 _Which is why the moment her sister was gone, Angela fell into a deep depression, uplifted only when she was seldom granted the chance to visit her sibling. Those visits became scarcer and scarcer, but at least Angela was capable of utilizing her school's computers for keeping in touch with her dear sister that way._

* * *

 _The omnic presence in the world was progressively factoring into everyday life once again. Despite the crisis that had nearly eradicated the thought of implementing such machines into society with rights similar to that of a human's, Angela could sense the world's acceptance of such beings beginning to change. She herself wanted nothing more than humans and omnics to coexist. The omnics were clearly more than mere apparatuses._

 _However, war had a way of changing one's perspective._

 _When war found Angela's home, she was soon without a mother and hastily shipped off to live with her father and sister. It wasn't the way she wanted to reunite with her sibling. Even if there was resentment, she couldn't not care about her mother, and the loss hit Angela harder than she could have ever anticipated it would._

 _Seeing her sister helped._

 _'You've changed! You look so beautiful!'_

 _It was so nice to hear her voice. Angela begged her father to allow her to attend the same school as her sister, and although he was hesitant, he complied in all eventuality. The following months were bliss. Angela was just another girl, and despite her name popping up from time to time amongst the faculty members, their questioning gazes rather irksome, they left well enough alone, and Angela held her sister's hand in the halls, embraced by her group of friends and finally content._

* * *

 _War was merciless. The Omnic Crisis was officially over, but remnants of such a widespread battle tended to linger. A shadow began creeping much more prominently across the land. Angela could sense it, but she could do little against it._

 _It took her father, and many others._

 _And then…_

 _'Leave me, Angie…'_

 _The heat of the fire and the screams of others buried in rubble or injured beyond saving rung in Angela's head. The city had been bombed, infiltrated by omnics and some form of dark-clad military._

 _'Never! Never! Take my hand!' She grabbed at her sister, trying to avoid looking at the way her lower half had been completely crushed by pieces of a building. Blood was soaking her torso, and her face was so pale._

 _'Even if I did, I'd bleed out before we took two steps. Heh…'_

 _'N-no…' She knew it was the truth, but she wouldn't accept it. She tugged again, but her sister simply touched her hand, shaking her head weakly._

 _'It's okay. Really. You're alive. I feel a bit better knowing that.'_

 _Angela felt the push before she knew what was even happening. If her sister hadn't reacted so quickly, or if she had saved herself instead, Angela would be the one dying._

 _'Please…!'_

 _'Live a full life, Angie. Don't forget me. Be happy. That's all I ask.' Always so selfless. It's part of why Angela loved her. Never jealous beyond reason. Just full of affection and kindness. She deserved to live. Not Angela. Not the arrogant, selfish, Angela._

 _'I-I can't. Not without you…!'_

 _'Sister's orders. You cannot deny them.'_

 _'I…I…'_

 _'Don't cry. Please don't cry.'_

 _But that's all Angela could do, because she was losing the most important person in the world to her, and she had no means of preventing the devastating blow to her reality._

* * *

 _Angela found herself at a crossroad shortly thereafter. She spent nearly a week fading away in a shelter provided by the government. She hardly ate, and only drank enough to keep the facilitators happy. Her mind swirled with regret and shame, wondering if she could have saved her sister somehow. The pain that burrowed into her heart left her ravaged and broken. Losing her sister twisted her psyche, and Angela fell into a blackness she would never remember succumbing to in the following years._

* * *

 _'Angela Ziegler?' She was approached one day._

 _'That is I…'_

 _'I am here to offer you an opportunity.'_

 _He was the head of surgery at a prominent hospital in Switzerland. He took Angela in and provided her schooling. At first, Angela rejected the visitation to her past, but when her new guardian suggested that she had the ability to pioneer a new wave of biological breakthroughs that could alter the very landscape of science and medication, Angela could only think of her sister and how she had failed to save her._

 _What if she had taken her studies more seriously and proven herself able then?_

 _That was the deciding factor. From that very moment onward, Angela pushed herself in memory of the sister she had lost, and this drive – this unfathomable ambition – accelerated her into obtaining her M.D. and P.H.D. while also being scouted once or twice by Overwatch, going so far as being welcomed into what would eventually be a historical picture of the group._

 _Angela became a true prodigy and worldwide name when she did as was prophesied by her guardian, and pioneered a breakthrough in the field of applied nanobiology, radically improving the treatment of life-threatening illnesses and injuries. She single-handedly presented methods and techniques that improved the quality of life for millions the world over._

 _But it wasn't enough for her._

 _Angela came to the conclusion that, in order for her to continue bettering mankind, and to redeem herself forevermore, she would need to live longer while simultaneously pushing the very boundary of what it meant to be mortal. She was granted the funding – even with her demands being astronomical – and began her work on nanomachines and what they could do for the human body at its very core._

* * *

 _The pain Angela bore because of the loss of her sister erected an impenetrable barrier around her heart. She never wanted to feel such raw, deep agony ever again. Even once she joined Overwatch, and even though she_ did _feel a substantial amount of comradery for many of her fellow agents, she kept any and all at arm's length quite adamantly. She never – never – wanted to go through such heartache again. Never._

* * *

A hand was holding her own. It was strong, but so very, very warm. It felt like it belonged in hers. It was a perfect fit. Angela's eyes cracked when she tried to open them, and a hot cloth passed over her face, allowing her lids to flutter open to bring forth a world of shapes and illogical colours.

'A-Angela…!' A voice called out. It wasn't her sister's, but it made her heart remember her. The notion of affection was so incredibly similar.

'Fareeha…' She whispered through chapped lips and a sore mouth. She began to cry. The room was cleared, thanks to the younger woman's quick demands, and Angela knew she was breaking for more reasons than she wished to relay.

'I was so scared…' She whimpered, and the gentle embrace that followed was unlike any before…which was even more frightening.


	49. XLIX: Tracer

Tracer

The flight back to Overwatch Gibraltar was much more solemn than Lena would have preferred. She and Widow had successfully captured Moira O'Deorain, and Fareeha was tending to Angela in the second set of seating within the somewhat small Slipstream. With Winston's help, once again, Lena managed to check herself and get her and the crew back to Overwatch Gibraltar within an hour and a half. She had attempted to talk to Fareeha a little bit, not having _that_ many interactions with the woman, but Ana's daughter was far too focused on ensuring Angela continued to breathe, and that was understandable. Widow herself remained strangely quiet (more so than usual), refusing to look anywhere but out the window of the plane and say little more than noises of affirmation to any discussion Lena tried to start.

Thus, Lena was rather relieved when she successfully landed the Slipstream, an entire battalion of agents specialized in the medical field ready to retrieve Angela and take her to the best facilities Overwatch had to offer at this time. Fareeha refused any immediate rest, forcing her shaky limbs and tired eyes to follow Angela, with Winston giving his permission as he directed another squad of agents to bring the very unconscious Moira out and transport her to a holding cell not completely unlike Widow's most recent room.

'Heya, big guy. We're back.' Lena forced herself to be peppy, as was expected of her, but fatigue was obviously in her voice. Widow stepped in somewhat close to her, likely unsure where her place was at this point. Lena didn't mind the feeling of being something of a bodyguard for the French woman.

'You did great, Lena. Really. Jack and Ana took some of our best to clean up the remaining mess, and we're currently looking at getting the news about all of this to the U.N. as soon as possible. Fareeha was able to record her rescue, and although the footage is a little shaky, what transpired between Moira and Angela cannot be denied. At the very least, they will likely take Moira in for questioning themselves, which will – if all goes well – lead to a partnership anew.'

'Or our quick termination…again.' Lena sighed.

'Er…hopefully not.'

'Heheh. Hopefully not.'

Winston looked around, and nodded toward his tower within the mountain of Overwatch Gibraltar.

'We have a moment. Would you both come with me?'

Lena nodded, giving Widow a nudge and following the big ape to his headquarters and room. Many a remaining Overwatch member couldn't help but stare as _the_ Widowmaker seemingly moved about freely, and Lena was thankful Winston was taking the woman's feelings into consideration. He ordered Athena to lock the door behind him as he, Lena, and Widow stepped into one of the most important points in Overwatch Gibraltar. Winston quickly jumped to the tire hanging in the middle of the room, swaying gently from side to side as he spoke grimly.

'I've asked Athena to report on Angela's condition every fifteen minutes.' Winston began, the fact he was on his tire indicating the intellect was anxious. 'I started preparing something of a life support apparatus when Jack and I decided to go through with this plan. It's nothing compared to what Angela could produce, I'm sure, but it's based around her nanomachine technology, and should help amplify their abilities temporarily. The theory behind her regenerative and healing capabilities are far beyond my knowledge of medicine and biology, but I could understand the core concept of her nanomachines since they are, essentially, a form of "machine". It's the least I could do.'

'Wicked! She's already crazy good at healing herself, but with _that_ kinda help? We might be okay!' Lena beamed.

'Fareeha spoke of the wound originating near her temple. Her brain was damaged, was it not?' Widow spoke out in almost a whisper.

'Yes. Yes, that's what concerns us all. The brain remains the most complex organ in the human body. The data it stores is excessively fragile, especially when it comes to memories and one's sense of self, from what I understand. Whether or not Angela is the exact same person upon recovering is yet to be seen. We…we can only hope.'

'Right. Right…'

A heavy silence, filled only by the small creaking of Winston's tire swaying slightly.

'In any case, I think it's best you both take a moment to clean up and relax. It's been a very rough few days, and you've done more than enough for the time being. The next week or so will prove pivotal to the future of Overwatch and maybe even the world, so recover your strength for what's to come. I'll take care of Angela and…er…she has someone else with her that won't leave her side either. She's in good hands.'

'Heheh. So, they're dating then, huh?' Lena pointed mischievously.

'Huh? Um…no? No. Not that I…know of.'

'Oh, Winston. You can't be serious. If that's your best attempt at lying, then you need some practise…although it's totally not a bad thing that you're so honest sometimes.'

'Angela…wants to keep it quiet.' The primate admitted in defeat, lowering his head.

'Course she does. It's too adorable though, innit? Ange _never_ talks about love. I really hope she wakes up soon, cause I want all the juicy details!' Lena was smiling, but part of her _was_ a little jealous. She could connect with just about anyone with ease, but Angela had always resisted her extension of friendship. Truth be told, she always thought Angela was bloody gorgeous as anything, but never got the impression she would swing Lena's way in the slightest. What made the angel of Overwatch change her mind? Lena didn't know much about Fareeha, but she didn't seem _that_ interesting. Bizarre. But as long as Angela was happy, that's all Lena truly, honestly cared about.

'You…make it sound like I am not returning to my cell.' Widow uttered tentatively.

Speaking of gorgeous.

'Oh. Well, Jack isn't here, and it sounds like you handled yourself really well in Oasis. Lena will still have to look after you, but I think I'm willing to let you at least walk about as long as Lena here is with you. Is…that okay?'

' _Y-yes. Thank-you._ ' Widow answered in French, and Winston adjusted his glasses curiously.

'Aw, shucks, huh, Luv? Still stuck with me! Ah, well; better than a cage or something, right?' Lena needed to gauge Widow's precise response to it all, and she was a little thrown by the woman's rather docile demeanor since boarding the Slipstream for the return trip.

'Quite.' She grabbed at her arm in an adorable fashion, and Lena turned away, afraid she would start having pointless thoughts again.

"Angela's status remains tentatively stable, but vital signs continue to fluctuate. Agent Zenyatta has begun providing support, and improvements are being registered. Report complete." Athena's soft yet robotic voice spoke up.

'That sounds promising…' Winston responded.

'Whelp. I think that's our cue to skedaddle and take a breather. Keep me posted with Ange, okay?'

'You got it.'

'And…' Lena glanced at Widow, winking to Winston. 'Thanks. For trusting me and stuff.'

'Naturally.'

Lena's cheeks hurt. Winston and she had been through so much. She cared about the big oaf more than she could have ever imagined. He was a close friend and a father figure at the same time. Lena counted her blessings, giving Winston a casual salute as she escorted Widow to her room.

* * *

'Oi. So, I kinda brought us here without thinkin'. Got myself a shower and everything, right? You're welcome to use it. Might've been a while since you got to have one, maybe? Um…' Lena scanned the area, not having enough time to really personalize her private quarters much since arriving.

'Don't act so nervous. It's unlike you.' Widow strolled about, evaluating the living space with that ever-present sway to her incredible hips. 'But I will gladly take you up on your offer. _Thank-you._ '

That accent was to die for at times. Lena distracted herself by scampering around to get her guest a towel and change of clothes. It was such a bizarre turn of events. Not _that_ long ago they had been trying to take one another down in a dance of death.

When Lena approached Widow to hand her the articles, the woman finally met the younger girl's eyes and blinked shyly.

'You…did not lose your job, thank goodness, but I do believe I owe you some form of compensation, Lena Oxton. I was not raised to treat such kindness and dedication with nothing less than the utmost of respect. Therefore…once I complete my shower, I would like to show my appreciation, if you would be allowing.'

Lena felt as though her mouth was quite literally hanging open. Was this why Widow had been so nervous and contemplative? Had she decided to…to…!?

'U-um…I-I mean, i-if you want to then…I…I won't say "no", right? I'd have to be completely daft. But…er…'

'Very well.' Widow cut Lena off, making her seductive exit even more torturous than ever before and shutting the washroom door with a tender click.

The shower started running a second later, and Lena could only stumble to her bed, managing to strip down completely and throw on her comfortable pair of yellow shorts and tiny white t-shirt that exposed her midriff and left shoulder. She lay back and stared at the ceiling, her arms spread apart and her chronal accelerator pulsating nearby.

'Seriously? Like…seriously?' She muttered under her breath.

It was a slew of emotions Lena couldn't manage without taking a moment and filtering through them one by one.

Excitement. How could she not be? She was only human, and she still held something of a crush for Amelie; even more so now that the core personality was beginning to shine through, and although it was a little more mature and intimidating than Lena generally went for, she couldn't say she minded. The more Lena thought about doing _anything_ sexually suggestive with Widow, the more her body ached with longing.

Nervous. Despite what Widow had told her, Lena _was_ nervous. She didn't want to screw this up. Who knew? If she performed properly, perhaps there really was a chance for her and Amelie. Dating Amelie? Completely daft…but not undesirable either. They had really begun to click as of late. Lena and Amelie were polar opposites in many ways, but didn't that make them more attractive to one another? Still, Lena had to figure this scenario out first, and other than her initial time making love to another woman, she couldn't remember feeling so much pressure and anxiety toward the act.

Guilt. This was the biggest hurdle because it came at Lena from three different angles. The first was Lena's inability to not consider Widow's own feelings in it all. If she was merely going to make love to Lena out of a sense of obligation, Lena wasn't sure she wanted to accept. If Amelie's heart wasn't in it, what was the point? Well, because it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and Lena could _make_ her enjoy it, right? Brutal. The argument went back and forth. Secondly, Lena kept wondering about Emily. She tried not to think about her, but they had been pretty in love, and regardless of what Lena herself had said to her ex and herself, a soreness took her heart with the mere thought of "betraying" Emily's feelings even when they weren't going out officially anymore. Finally, Angela was in critical condition, and it just lacked tact to engage in anything so pleasurable while Lena's close friend struggled for her life.

That was the clincher.

Lena wasn't sure she could look at herself in the mirror with pride if Angela happened not to make it while she was taking advantage of an emotionally compromised woman who felt as though she had a debt to pay.

The private channel intercom beeped, and Lena jumped, accepting the call.

'Y-yeah?'

"Everything alright?"

'Of course, Luv! Hahah…'

"Er…Okay. You sounded a little strange."

'It's nothing. Heh!'

"Oh. Well, good. Anyway, I just wanted to let you both know that Angela has woken up. She's past the worst of it, I think. Still need to keep a close eye on her, but Athena has informed me that her numbers are on the rise. I think she'll make it. Fareeha is having a moment with her right now, but we'll be performing some more thorough checkups soon."

'Oh, my gosh! Wicked!'

"Right? Thank goodness."

'Well, Widow's in the shower for now, and then I'll probably take one, but I think we'd both like to visit Ange when we get the chance.'

"Yes. I'd encourage it. I'll keep in touch. Relax until then."

'Thanks, big guy.'

The channel clicked off, and Lena shook her head, grinning slightly.

'If that's not a shove in one direction I don't know what is. Gosh…' It really was amazing news to know Angela was likely going to pull through, but now Lena found herself hesitating again, pushing her hands through her hair and messing it up roughly.

And then the shower stopped.

'Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy…' Lena wiped her face. She paced about, suddenly very conscious of how little she was wearing. Too late to change, but she could feel a draft on just the edges of her cheeks as they poked out from under her shorts if she walked a certain way. Would Amelie find her trashy? She was an upper-class French woman, and Lena was…nothing much, really. A very normal girl that had an accident resulting in abilities anyone could learn how to harness if given the chance.

'She's out of my league. She's totally right outta my league!' Now the nerves were dominating. Excitement and guilt remained, but they meant nothing if Lena couldn't even perform _anything_ well.

The door to the washroom slowly opened, and Widow stepped out, breathing in exasperation while still drying her head. She was in one of Tracer's t-shirts that had something of an aviator theme, with grey, sporty shorts that exposed her long, slenderly muscular legs. The shirt was a perfect fit on Lena, but Widow's height and longer torso made it much sexier than it usually was, her midriff peeking out distractingly.

'Oh, my God…' Lena muttered.

'It gets rather stuffy in there, no?' Widow claimed, her wet, dark hair falling about her head sexily. She was a force Lena had no experience handling, and the more she considered following through with any of this, the less sure she was of herself.

'Hahah! Yeah. A little.'

'Did I hear Winston's voice?'

'Oh! Yep! Angela's in the green, it sounds like.'

' _Magnificent._ Now you will not be burdened with what comes next.'

'Oi…' Lena scratched her head. Was she so easy to read?

'Your consideration for others is…a lovely trait.' Widow went on.

'You think so, huh?'

'I do.'

'It's a right ol' pain sometimes, let me tell you.'

'Oh?'

'Can I be honest?'

'I would prefer it. My life has been nothing but lies for quite some time.'

'Right…' Lena was going to regret this in the short term. But in the long run? 'I don't think you owe me anything, Amelie. Really. I'd hate for you to feel that way.'

'Mm? Go on.'

'It's just,' Lena sighed. 'As much as I'm crazy ready to do _whatever_ with you, I can't when I think you're only doing it out of some kind of debt, you know?'

'Indeed.' Widow smiled subtly, stepping closer to Lena and throwing the towel to the side, her hair still damp and framing her perfect face. 'Yet I do believe I have made this decision myself, little girl, and so long as you have no other objections, then please accept my gratitude…' Her voice lingered in Lena's ears, and soon Widow was an inch away, her breasts grazing the top of Lena's as she continued with a teasing whisper.

'…with but a kiss, and only a kiss.'

Lena's eyes widened as the realization hit her and Widow's lips met her own. She had just a taste of the other woman, their first exchange being sloppy and awkward at best, but this time, Widow was mostly willing, and her full, pouty lips were everything Lena had imagined they'd be and more.

'Mmm…!' Lena hummed without thinking. It just felt so good. She missed this sensation. Another woman's touch couldn't be matched in Lena's mind. However, the cruel torture of the moment held fast on Lena's mental state. She had been presumptuous, assuming incorrectly that Amelie was willing to make love to her. A kiss. That's all she was offering. The letdown was unbearable now that Lena was experiencing such an interaction.

It was over in little more than a second. Widow's face backed away. That's all she would give.

And yet…Lena's experience told her otherwise. She could see the hesitation in Amelie's cybernetic eyes as they danced within tentatively. Lena had turned two girls in her life. One was her very first partner, and she had given Lena the very same look just before they ventured into unknown territory together. The second was Emily, who had been attracted to men all her life prior to meeting Lena. Was she bold enough to take another risk of this scale?

Thank goodness for the courage arousal could give.

'Hey…' Lena touched Widow's hip, and the woman flinched.

'What?' Widow answered quietly, so maddeningly sweet without meaning to be.

'A little more?'

A pause, and Widow's sultry eyes met Lena's. She seemed almost like a young girl suddenly, nervous but willing to give up her virginity. Lena supposed it was something like that, since this was her first time with a woman.

'Such greed…' Amelie answered, and Lena took that as a "yes", kissing Widow softly but with restrained passion. The woman's mouth hesitated, yet soon opened alongside Lena's, her tongue weakly moving with another.

Lena brought Widow closer, her firm body pressing against her own, and although she desperately wanted to take hold of the woman's incredible lower half, she resisted, feeling out their current interaction and embracing it for what it was.

'H-hah…You're a passionate girl…' Amelie cooed, and Lena held her even tighter, a sort of madness beginning to work its way into the desires forming between both women.

'Luv,' She encouraged silently. 'I haven't even started yet…'


	50. L: Pharah

Pharah

'I was so scared…' Angela said the words Fareeha was contemplating in that very moment. That very second. Fareeha thought she knew what fear was; she was terribly mistaken. Waiting helplessly while Angela fought a battle Fareeha had nothing to do with? That was fear. That was the very definition of terror. Helplessness when the person you cared for more than any other lay at the brink of death. Yes. That was fear.

Fareeha held Angela, and would have done so more tightly if she was physically capable or the woman didn't feel so fragile as it was. Angela breathed out shakily in Fareeha's ear, weakly touching her back, but her hands dropped to her side, and she coughed violently, blood ejected from her mouth and her once brilliant blue eyes a troubling grey hue.

'Angela…I…' Fareeha couldn't find her words. She could only stare at the woman before her and attempt to quell her heart from bursting within. 'H-here's some water.' She finished at last, helping Angela with the drink only to have the fluid spit up in another attack of harsh exhalations.

'My apologies…' Angela wiped more blood from her mouth. 'We truly…truly need to cease such meetings, Fareeha…' She wheezed, and the concern only rose within Fareeha. She wanted to spend more time alone with Angela, to shower her with unfiltered affection, but even she could see that would be foolish and selfish only. Fareeha pressed a red button near Angela's bed, and Zenyatta re-entered with a couple of other medical specialists.

'She's…in pain.' Fareeha said dumbly, hating her inabilities at such a time.

Zenyatta floated next to the good doctor, touching her forehead gently and seeming to hesitate, his unchanging expression somehow exuding a level of dire apprehension. He glowed with an ambience of tranquility, some form of transcendence emitting from his very presence.

'Might I have a word with her alone, Fareeha Amari?' The monk asked, and Fareeha's throat tightened to the point she couldn't speak. Fortunately, Angela did so for her, although her words carried frightening weight.

'She can stay…' She uttered, staring blankly before herself. 'She deserves to know.'

'So, you are already aware.' The omnic hummed.

'Of course.' Angela smiled distantly. 'It's my body. I've…known for quite some time.'

The other physicians exchanged glances, but simply did as was requested, departing once again. The door slid closed, and Fareeha almost wanted to leave as well. Instinctively, she was more aware than she preferred to be regarding what might be coming next. She didn't want to hear it. It could be too cruel. Too devastating. Too mortifying.

A heavy, powerful pause, but Zenyatta's smooth voice stirred the souls within them all as he spoke up again.

'The injury seemed to just barely graze your brain, Angela Ziegler. A fortunate occurrence, one might say.'

Angela turned to Fareeha, grinning beautifully, yet Fareeha wanted to cry without knowing why.

'Because of you, Fareeha. Moira was prepared to, more than likely, kill me due to her curiosity. My nanomachines would not have been…' She paused, muffling a cough, the black patches under her eyes sinking further. 'My apologies. I would not…have survived. You appeared at just…the perfect time, throwing her off balance…and saving my life. My hero.' Angela smiled feebly. 'My knight in shining…armour.'

Fareeha bit at her lip, her mouth quivering.

'So…you know as well, Fareeha Amari?' Zenyatta tipped his head to the side.

'She has uncanny instincts with such things…' Angela sighed sadly. 'She only knows she is about to hear something she wishes not to.'

'Ah.' The omnic nodded wisely. 'Your souls are one, perhaps?'

Angela didn't even hesitate as she responded, which only broke Fareeha's heart further.

'She has a piece of me not another living being will ever obtain. Yes.'

'Are…you going to be okay, Angela…?' Fareeha managed, barely holding her voice level.

'In the moment, I do believe so.'

'But…?' Fareeha swallowed hard.

'Heh. But…I may have a troubling future. Moira could make an educated guess…almost immediately. And I suppose our friend Zenyatta…has gathered some form of insight upon…caring for me.'

'Indeed.' The otherworldly omnic sung.

'W-what is it?' Fareeha clenched her fists, waiting for the blow.

The following pause almost made her crumble, but once more, Zenyatta's voice was like that of the gentlest Gods in any form of lore.

'Angela Ziegler's body is decaying from within. While her age appears stagnant, her inner workings are displaying signs of fatigue and strain like none I have ever witnessed. These "nanomachines" utilize a form of energy similar to that of an omnic, and due to this, I can somewhat adequately communicate with them as though they were something of a singular entity. They are tired. They are breaking down. They cannot keep up with Angela Ziegler's demands for much longer.'

No more. Please, no more.

'Put simply, with every "revive", Angela Ziegler is willingly giving up her life to save another. Such an act can only demand a similarly devastating toll.'

This isn't real. It can't be.

'I have heard legends of a Goddess capable of resurrecting a small group of soldiers from the very edge of destruction. You have since made claim of being unable to perform such miracles any further. However, I suspect you may have determined the demands of such a feat, and have since re-evaluated what you should and should not enact accordingly. How many years does such an interruption of Fate's work cost you, Angela Ziegler?'

Years? Fate? Toll? Cost? No. No. No. No.

Fareeha didn't know she was shaking her head in denial. She stared at the fragile Angela in bed. This was different than before. She seemed so…weak. She wasn't wearing a mask of defiance. Fareeha's angel only nodded, her eyes staying closed long enough to leave an impression upon her lover.

'I do not know.' Angela answered solemnly. 'I'm too frightened to truly analyze the numbers. Yet, I am becoming more acutely aware of the nanomachine's limits with every passing day. They are not reproducing as competently as before. Moira…lay waste to so many…'

Fareeha's eyes widened. Moira. Moira O'Deorain. The devil. The monster…!

'Fareeha…' Angela's tone changed slightly, as if warning the younger woman. 'Do not jeopardize your future…out of a need for revenge. Please.'

'I…know.' Fareeha swallowed knives. 'I know.'

'I haven't seen you ever look so…bloodthirsty before. It was quite frightening and…well…Just please don't do anything rash.'

'I won't.' Fareeha told herself over and over again. 'So, what can be done?' She decided to ask.

The silence was her answer, and Fareeha's rage continued to build.

'Introducing a new swarm of nanomachines would not only cost an astronomical amount of money, but I do not favour the variables that could result. As Zenyatta has wisely stated, the nanomachines within me are very much like a living entity. They might not take kindly to another being infiltrating their home. The results…could be devastating.'

'More devastating than you dying!?' Fareeha's voice cracked. She rarely lost her composure, _especially_ in front of others, but this was too much. She was barely standing anymore. Angela was slipping through her fingers. They had only _just_ reached such a point in their relationship, and it was possibly ending so soon?

'Fareeha…' Angela cooed as though she were a mother calming a hysterical child. 'My knight. My beautiful, charming girlfriend.'

This cooled the Egyptian's woman's fury some. She glanced to Zenyatta, feeling her cheeks reddening at the raw, authentic appraisal.

'I still have years. Please bear that in mind. At least ten, if my rough calculations are partially correct. I'm not going anywhere yet.'

This _did_ help. And yet…

'But if you bring agents and others back from the edge of death…those years lessen, don't they? Every time you're severely injured…more time is lost?'

'Heh.' Angela shrugged. 'I suppose that's correct.'

'Then I protect you. I won't ask you to leave Overwatch. We're needed here. _You're_ needed here. But you will not revive again. You will not.'

'Fareeha…' Angela's eyes watered, and Fareeha's resolve quivered. 'You know I can never…never turn a blind eye to someone in need before me. You _know_ this…'

She made her cry. Damn it. Damn it to hell. Of course, she knew, but…! But…!

'I suggest a recess.' Zenyatta calmly interfered. 'Fareeha Amari, your legs are shaking. You need to rest. Angela Ziegler, I recommend you do the same. I shall remain and ensure your stability. This conversation can be revisited when you have both found some level of tranquility. Agreed?'

'…Agreed.' Angela whimpered.

'Very well.' Fareeha grabbed at herself, but she couldn't stop. She turned from the woman she adored and stormed out like an immature brat. She had to leave though. She was fuming. She couldn't remember the last time she was so beyond frustrated. Angela was _killing_ herself. If Fareeha lost her now…!

Zenyatta's advice was sound. Fareeha knew when she was behind herself. Her training in the army taught her how to recognize the signs and adjust her actions accordingly. She hated herself for leaving Angela so, but she was on the verge of exploding, and she was scared she would say something especially hurtful. Thus, she left. She left the woman she loved…both of their eyes watering for more reasons than either could explain easily.

* * *

Sleep hit Fareeha harder than she could have ever expected. She stripped to nothing but her black boxer briefs, lay her head back, closed her eyes and, what felt like a second later, awoke only to discover she was out for almost three hours. Her mind calmed, panic overriding any anger she held against Angela, and she stumbled her way to the intercom, her muscles screaming in denial, but her mind having the last word as Athena was paged.

'Athena?'

"Fareeha Amari. Master class. Good night. How may I be of service?"

Master class? Was she promoted since her return? It didn't matter. Overwatch was her dream and, to an extent, it still was, but her long-term plans had changed dramatically, and only one individual's status meant anything to her now.

'Can I ask what Angela Ziegler's condition is?'

"Please wait. Authenticating. Fareeha Amari logged as Angela Ziegler's significant other per Grandmaster class Angela Ziegler's request. Confirmed."

Her…significant other? Fareeha bit down on her lip, crunching against the urge to tear up. She loved her so much. It hurt she loved her so. Perhaps that's why she got so upset. The mere flicker of imagination that depicted a world without Angela simply tore out Fareeha's heart. They've known yet haven't known one another a long time. It was uncanny the intensity their relationship had reached so hastily.

"Status is stable. Angela Ziegler is asleep. Last state of consciousness was recorded as partially distraught, but physically improving. Agent Zenyatta overseeing Angela Ziegler's wellbeing at present moment."

Partially distraught. Because of Fareeha. Because she left her in a huff. She felt physically ill, her head unbalanced and her emotions at the border of insanity. She had to do something. Angela would rest while she did so. Fareeha stretched a plain black tank top over her muscular body and fitted her favourite pair of jeans upon her form. It was late, but she needed to get out and driving, at the very least. So much had happened over the past twenty-four hours. Fareeha still needed some air. The shopping district nearby was something of a tourist attraction, meaning many of the shops would still be open. Fareeha wasn't one to waste her time perusing merchandise, but she had a notion, and she wanted to follow through with it.

Fareeha went about the processes required to take out a vehicle, gaining access even more easily because of her updated rank. A Master class. Now that she had calmed slightly, the concept brought a smile to her face, and Fareeha received the keys to the same car she had taken Angela out on for their first "date". She was descending into the garage when a familiar voice called out to her, and she turned abruptly, seeing Brigitte waving enthusiastically.

'Hey, hey!' She beamed, although she moved with a small limp.

'Brigitte! Good evening. I'm…just going for a drive.' It was a bit much to go into all the details.

'That's what it looks like, yeah. Need some company? I could use some breathing space, too. Rein is being such a busybody trying to keep me down. Even Papa is more lenient than him sometimes. Crazy, right?'

Fareeha was going to reject the offer, feeling as though she needed solitude more than anything, and if any other agent had made the request she would have denied them without a second thought. But Brigitte was different. They were similar in many ways, and connected quite quickly. Fareeha eventually nodded to the auburn-haired girl.

'Okay. Let's go.'

'Heheh! Thanks!'

Driving with Brigitte was as pleasant as Fareeha assumed it would be. In fact, the girl proved to be quite fun, blaring the music to some of her favourite rock bands and singing along…if a little off key. She attempted to goad Fareeha into joining her, but the older woman refused, very self-conscious of her inability to carry a tune whatsoever. Once the impromptu karaoke ended, Brigitte hit the radio off completely and leaned back in her chair, sighing contently.

'I really needed this. Been pretty down since the attack, you know?'

'Hmm?'

'Oh! Oh, right! You haven't had the chance to read the reports or anything, huh? While you and Angela were gone, Talon infiltrated our base. It was really intense. My first real fight. Me and Rein were doing pretty good, too, but Reaper is no joke. Got me hurt and everything. In front of Rein of all people. Ugh…'

Why hadn't Fareeha been told about this? No. She was aware of the answer to that question. Angela's mission couldn't be compromised with such knowledge. Fareeha knew the good doctor would become distracted knowing her friends were in danger. It was for the best. But still…

'Reinhardt is your trainer, correct? You both have similar fighting styles?'

'Yep! I'm his squire.' She said this with such pride. Reinhardt had introduced her to Fareeha with the same enthusiasm. They were obviously very close.

'The Talon attack concerns me, however. Why now? How many did we lose?'

'Not too many. Some major injuries, but Rein and I kept our side of the base pretty contained. The front had to fight a black omnic or something? Reinhardt apparently took it down, but really tore himself up doing it. The thing was massive, apparently. And why now? I guess it's because of Widowmaker? Seems a little excessive for one agent, don't you think?'

Fareeha shook her head, gripping at the wheel of the car and speeding up without realizing it.

'On the board of war, certain individuals have a value that cannot be measured sometimes.' She thought of Angela, and how far Talon was willing to go to take the Queen of Overwatch's pieces.

'Huh. Makes sense. Wish I could've seen the rest of the fight, let me tell you. Reinhardt taking on such a monstrosity? How amazing, right?'

Fareeha blinked, wondering if it was _just_ admiration that made Brigitte speak of the legendary man in such a fond way. It wasn't her place to pry, and her ability to evaluate such scenarios wasn't precisely her strong point. Brigitte, on the other hand, seemed to have little issue doing that very thing.

'But not as amazing as Angela sometimes, right, Fareeha?'

Fareeha turned a corner a little more sharply than she meant to, pulling into a parking lot and backing into a space with extreme precision; the kind Angela would have complimented enthusiastically, making Fareeha swell with pride.

'Um…I suppose?' Fareeha answered once she shifted the car into "park", turning it off with the press of a button.

'What was that text all about, huh? I've known Angela for a while. Been a friend of Papa's going way back. You crushing on the "insurmountable challenge", as Papa calls it? Heheh.'

Fareeha shrugged, making a face of passive confidence.

'All I'll say,' She grinned painfully. 'Is that it is "insurmountable" no more. The…challenge that is.'

Brigitte blinked, leaning in over the car seat.

'Are you kidding?'

'I'm not.'

'You…and her?'

'Affirmative.'

The stare of utter disbelief was both satisfying and uncomfortable. When Fareeha shifted a bit, Brigitte seemed to find herself.

'I-I'm sorry, but Papa and I both thought she was married to her work forevermore. Wow. He's gonna lose it when he finds out. You two, um, keeping it a secret or something?'

'Why would we?' Fareeha raised a brow, curious to hear Brigitte's response.

'Oh, I don't care at all, but even Tracer – _the_ Tracer – gets kind of picked on here and there. Not cool.'

'Agreed…' Fareeha answered darkly.

'But you have my full support. In fact, I think it's pretty wonderful! I haven't talked to Angela much since I got to base, but _something_ was a bit different about her. Maybe it was the aura of love? Heheh!'

'You must be joking.'

'Listen, I don't have a lot of experience with this stuff, okay? I mostly just like tinkering with metal. Boys…or girls, or whatever? No time for them here.'

'Not even Reinhardt?'

The way Brigitte recoiled was priceless. Ah. So, this is why Angela loved to tease Fareeha. It was hilariously amusing to fluster someone so easily.

'W-what are you going on about? He's, like, twice my age. Triple even, I think.'

'And Angela is a woman. Love has no boundaries, as far as I'm concerned.'

A small pause, with Brigitte clicking her tongue and getting out of the car. Fareeha wasn't as persistent as some, and thus, relieved the young girl of any further questioning. They stepped into the outdoor shopping centre, various stores and pubs brimming with life. Fareeha instinctively made her way to the first place she had taken Angela for their "date". She indicated the spot, smiling without meaning to quite so brightly.

'El Cortijo. I brought Angela here during our first outing. She's a lightweight.'

'Hahah!' Brigitte held her stomach, fixing her hair once she was done laughing cutely. 'Girl's got no muscle; of course, she is.'

'True.'

'Was that the plan? Take advantage of the poor maiden?'

'Not at all!' Fareeha burned.

'I know. I know. You're too honest and straight-laced for that kinda foul play. It's why I like you, you know? That, and having a fellow female workout buddy is always nice. I feel just lame lifting weights next to Reinhardt. He's ridiculous.'

'Heh. Always mentioning Reinhardt.'

'W-whatever! He's my master, and we're always together, so that's just how it is.'

'Uh-huh.' Fareeha dodged a playful punch from Brigitte, and both girls laughed together prior to Brigitte finally asking a somewhat obvious question.

'So, what's the plan anyway? We getting a drink? Thought you wouldn't move from Angela's side since she's kinda in rough shape and everything.'

Fareeha grimaced, glancing around the area until she spotted a shop that looked as though it would work for her needs.

'We…had a disagreement. I want to get her something as an apology. I was thinking flowers?' She thought of the pretty floral headpiece Angela had been wearing during the convention. It looked perfect on her, like almost anything would. Still, Angela seemed to at least somewhat enjoy a botanical touch.

'Oh…!' Brigitte affirmed. 'Gotcha. A lover's quarrel!'

'If you must call it that.'

'Meh. It just means you're close. Reinhardt and I fight all the – ' The squire cut herself short, blushing terribly and scowling at Fareeha before she even said anything. 'Don't!' She snapped.

'I won't.' Fareeha grinned knowingly, nudging Brigitte and thankful she had brought the younger girl with her.

* * *

Fareeha gently placed the almost comically large bouquet of white lilies smoothly upon a table near Angela's bed where she slept within her private room in the medical ward. The tiny clink of the jar signified its successful relocation, and Fareeha sat beside Angela's breathing form on the floor, marveling at the woman's gorgeous face and the transformation it had undergone in the short time they had been apart from one another. She looked almost perfectly healthy…which Fareeha now knew to be a devastating lie.

The room was vacant save for the couple, Zenyatta departing once Fareeha arrived, quietly telling her Angela would be quite fine now that the worst of it was over. Her nanomachines had found their stride and worked in overtime to secure their host's safety. Knowing what Fareeha knew, she couldn't view the otherworldly technology as anything but a parasite that was killing the woman she loved. Yet, those same machines kept her safe as well, didn't they? A paradoxical frustration, indeed.

Still, at least Fareeha could appreciate the aesthetic appeal of her Sleeping Beauty. She would surely never tire of the chills simply looking at Angela gave her. The fierce desire to protect her. To make her happy. To ensure she was comfortable and content in every way. If only they had met sooner. Fareeha knew Angela had snubbed this idea, but it felt like a waste to have such a relationship so late in their lives. Their years felt even more finite now, and it sucked Fareeha's heart into a black hole of potential depression the more she thought about the cruel reality.

The young Egyptian took out the loaner phone she had acquired since returning to Overwatch Gibraltar, her original crushed thanks to Tobias, and sent a quick e-mail to Brigitte, since the network within base was smart enough to recognize a user's authenticity and autofill the address once Fareeha began typing.

"Thanks for coming with me, Brigitte. Another workout together soon? You're a good friend."

The reply came quite quickly, to Fareeha's surprise, and she smiled at the peppy girl's answer.

"Sounds good! Take care of Angela, and give her a kiss for me! Heheh!"

"Only if you tell Reinhardt how you feel. He's not getting younger."

"Screw off!"

A pause, and then another ping to Fareeha's phone.

"I'll think about it…"

Fareeha smiled, turning back to Angela and finding her expression widening in joy. She moved a loose strand of golden hair from the woman's eye, and breathed out slowly.

'I love you…' She whispered, the claim _still_ giving her a jolt of anticipation. 'And I'm sorry…'

Angela giggled suddenly, blinking awake and turning her face slowly to Fareeha's.

' _Curses_. I wanted to hear what else you had to say, Ms. Amari.'

'Y-you were up!? For how long?'

Angela stretched, sitting up but pausing sharply, sucking in some air and rubbing her temple where the injury had been.

'I heard your phone beeping, I suppose. So, just long enough to hear you professing your love to me and grovelling at my feet.'

'I-I wasn't "grovelling".'

'True. But… _Oh, my goodness! What are those?_ ' Angela pointed at the flowers, and although Fareeha didn't understand the German completely, she could ascertain the general meaning.

'An awkward woman's attempt to offer an apology for…for being so immature when you needed me. I _am_ sorry, Angela. I didn't mean to hurt you. I…I was being selfish, and unreasonable, and…foolish. But I…' Fareeha's voice cracked, the despair washing over her in a wave the more she gave her mind leave to consider the possibilities Angela's news had presented.

'I can't imagine life without you anymore…You were the missing piece. I was fine, but you changed everything, and now I can't go back.'

Why was _she_ the one crying? Selfish until the end, it seemed. But Angela's hand found Fareeha's face, the touch electrifying and fitted to her damp cheek perfectly.

'Do not think for a moment it isn't the same for me, Fareeha.'

Ah. Angela was sobbing as well. That helped…Such a fine mess they were.

'Since taking my studies seriously, I have not once faltered. Not once. I was called many terrible things, you should know, for I was consumed by the desire to change humanity's fate as a biological organism. Anything but work was a nuisance, really. If I wasn't saving a life, I wasn't fulfilling the debt I owed.'

Fareeha blinked, wiping at her own tears and stabilizing some as Angela spoke, the older woman hesitating but going on.

'You…are the first I've told of this. I ask you keep it between us, if you would be so kind.'

Fareeha nodded, wondering what else Angela could tell her beyond her shortening lifespan that could be so secret. As Angela prepared to go on, the tears were already pouring from her ocean-blue eyes, and the pain they personified clawed into Fareeha's chest. Angela was breaking before she even began, and Fareeha wasn't sure she was permitted to touch her hand or anything she seemed so dishevelled.

'H-hah…I'm sorry.' Angela breathed in and out shakily, trying to gain control. 'I…I had a sister growing up. Her name…w-was Gloria. She was…everything to me in a tumultuous upbringing that attempted to govern my every waking hour…'

A sister!? Angela was a public figure by this point. How was this information so well hidden? Even the Overwatch archives spoke nothing of it. What was going on?

'I lost her. I-if I had taken my lessons in earnest up until that point…I could have… I could have saved her, I'm sure. I could save her now. But I lost her, and…it's the grandest failure and regret…of my life. Thus, and it hurts me to say this, Fareeha, because you're the only person in the world who has come even close to changing my mind, I will never – _never_ – turn a blind eye from someone in need. I owe it to the world. I owe it…to my sweet…loving Gloria…'

Fareeha was shell-shocked, sitting back blankly and taking all the information in. She was honoured to be bestowed such a knowledge, but it also made her feel even more guilty for her misplaced rage.

'I…didn't know.'

Angela wiped her face, sniffling herself back into control as she forced herself to giggle.

'Of course, you didn't. I've wiped such information from existence. Very few key persons in my life are aware of my past. I wish to keep it that way. If Moira knew…if any of our enemies knew just how weak I become in the face of such truths…I fear how it would be used against me.'

'Yet…you tell me.' Fareeha still couldn't believe it.

'Fareeha.' Angela said in a scolding tone. 'Since our first interactions I felt something akin to that emotion I held for only my late sister. That feeling has since grown and evolved into something only the restrictive word "love" can hope to contain even partially. Gloria…will always have a place in my heart, and none have ever threatened that space…until you. If I were to lose you, I doubt I would recover again.'

Fareeha swallowed, taking Angela's hand at last and staring at her with unfiltered resolve, pushing past the urge to shed more tears in light of the backstory provided.

'Then understand that I feel the same for you, Angela. Please, _please_ do not put yourself at risk anymore. I…I won't stop you from reviving others at the expense of your own life. How could I now? But I already submitted a request to speak with Jack personally. You can't be expected to perform such a risk ever again.'

Angela gripped Fareeha's hand, understanding coming over her as she leaned in, resting her forehead against the other woman's softly.

'Understood, Fareeha. You're…quite right. I would be a hypocrite to deny you this request. I would never forgive myself if I put you through a semblance of what I endured due to the loss of Gloria. Y-yes. Understood, Fareeha. My best friend. My perfect lover. My knight…in shining, Raptora armour.'

And the melody of their contrasting laughter resonated in the air, a moment of calm and everlasting affection duly delivered and earned for but the moment in Overwatch's hidden history.


	51. LI: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

It was like standing at the brink of the ocean. Waves crashed against her heels, pushing at her in an exciting yet frightening way. The water pulled back, leaving her skin cold, and then rushed forward again, knocking her off balance and making her question everything she thought she knew. The sky was beautiful, and the sun was setting in her enhanced vision. The ocean lingered, peeling away from her, and this went on for as long as Amelie wished it. She had complete control.

And yet, she didn't.

A wave was coming. It was rising higher, and higher, and higher, until Amelie's heart leapt into her throat and she panicked, her body aflame and her instincts telling her to run, never looking back. One thing she missed about being her old self – being Widowmaker – was the complete lack of fear.

* * *

Lena was a very, very good kisser. Widow didn't have as much experience as one might expect, but what she could compare Lena to placed her in a completely different realm. Gerard's bristly mustache and large mouth weren't awful, by any stretch of the imagination, but the experience with Overwatch's poster child was completely different. She was leading, taking Widow by the hand and ushering her into a place of sexuality the older woman didn't ever think she would venture.

Their bodies were close. Widow could feel Lena's pressing against hers, her hands caressing her back in perfect motions. She was good. Too good. Every stroke gave Widow goosebumps, and her voice hummed in her throat, startling the sniper.

Widow opened her mouth, and Lena traced her bottom lip with her tongue, kissing her in between and then holding Widow's own within her teeth before resuming a safer method of affection. Teasing. Pushing. Testing. Lena was feeling Widow out in every way, looking for some form of approval. The fact they were still kissing meant something. Widow hadn't said a word, yet Lena had read her mind perfectly.

She wanted this.

When had it started? The exact point couldn't be referenced, but Widow connected the more recent events, knowing the fact Lena was always so incredibly understanding and considerate of Widow's past, present, and future helped. Her loyalty helped. Her respect helped. Her unfaltering dedication helped. This sensation coursing through Widow's cold veins…helped.

However, as Widow sunk deeper into the abyss of a total different form of lovemaking, her mind scattered, and images of her late husband insisted on haunting her. Her reactions to Lena's touches and lips faltered, and when she felt as though she was suffocating with guilt and apprehension, she bit down hard, ripping at flesh and tasting blood almost immediately.

'A-ahhh!' Lena hollered, covering her mouth. 'Bloody hell, Amelie! I don't mind a little rough play here and there, but…Jesus…!'

Widow blinked, looking away and touching her own arm, the tattoo decorating it like a scar reminding her of what she was capable of.

'I said a kiss, little girl. You were clearly insisting on more.'

Lena wet a cloth, putting it to the deep injury Widow had inflicted in panic.

'I know that, Luv, but I have enough experience to know you were giving me "bedroom eyes". I wasn't the only one getting in the mood.' Lena shook her head. 'Perfect. I was raring to go, and now I gotta settle down while bleeding like crazy from my lip. Couldn't just ask me to stop, huh?'

'I shouldn't have to. I've made it very clear that I have no interest in making love to my own sex.'

'Unless it's to get you outta here to go on a hunt, right?'

'Hmph…' Widow scowled, prowling the area and feeling a sense of emptiness; the kind she didn't know how to handle properly. 'Where am I sleeping?' She inquired, needing to change the subject.

'With me, obviously.' Lena giggled, and Widow rolled her eyes as the Brit went on. 'I'll have Athena order some sheets and stuff for us. You can use my bed. I'll camp it on the floor. Gotta keep an eye on you and everything, right?'

Widow swallowed, taken aback yet again by the young woman's chivalry.

'I do not mind the floor…'

'Pu-lease.' Lena laughed, dabbing her lip still. 'I doubt Talon gave you the nicest of places to sleep, and then you had to deal with a hospital bed and dungeon here, so yeah, I ain't giving you anything but the best I have to offer.'

'…I hate it when you do that.'

'What? Make myself irresistible?'

Yes. But Widow would never admit it. Everything Lena did drew Widow to her, making her want to continue where that kiss was taking the young women. Thinking of Gerard and the life she could have had was something of a preventative measure, but even those dark memories could only be illuminated by Lena's wonderful light.

'Your kindness is suspect.'

'Well, get used to it, Luv. Not everyone is out to get you; especially here.' Lena winked, and then went to the washroom's entrance. 'Make yourself at home. I have the same networks on my T.V. as the medical ward, so, you can watch your cheesy soap operas.'

'You're leaving me unattended and without that ridiculous shock collar?'

'Yep!' And she disappeared.

It was immediately strange. When was the last time Widow was left alone in comfort? She couldn't remember. It was almost overwhelming. She took in her surroundings more carefully now, no longer distracted by an inkling of desire, and noted the small nuances within the room that hinted at who lived here for now. Lena Oxton. A young, enthusiastic woman that hid behind a smile, belying her fears and instability in the world. How many knew the real Lena? Should Widow feel fortunate?

The chronal accelerator hummed nearby, it's pale blue light glowing within the dimly lit living space. Lena had to be somewhat close to it, correct? She was lucky she didn't have to always be wearing it, at least. Surely it would get in the way of certain…activities. Still, how careless of the girl to leave the device laying out in the open with someone who was her enemy not that long ago.

Widow approached the piece of machinery and held it in her hands, the complexity of the technology lost on her. She was never one for playing with such trinkets. That was Gerard's area of fun. She placed a hand over the light, the rays piercing through her fingers, and increased the pressure, wondering how much it would take to send Tracer into oblivion forever. One of the best Overwatch had lost because of her ignorant, blind trust.

Widow shook her head, hastily placing the chronal accelerator back where she found it and closing her eyes in frustration. She would be a fool to think everything would be fine just yet. Dr. Ziegler's medicine was losing its effect already. The spans of time between necessary dosages was decreasing. She distracted herself by turning on the previously mentioned T.V., flicking to the station Lena had teased her about and finding nostalgic comfort in the badly shot, old romances from days past. The dramatic scenario was just as outrageous as ever, but the emotions were conveyed rather convincingly, and Widow could appreciate such flair for the arts.

As Widow was about to take a seat in one of the available chairs near a tiny dining room table, she noted Lena's flight jacket hung overtop of one. It was clearly well loved, as its patch work and leather were falling apart. She touched the material, pleased by the sensation, and brought it close to her face, allowing her sense of smell to be overwhelmed by the natural aroma of the piece and traces of Lena, which brought Widow's slowed pulse to a brief spike.

'You devilish woman…' Widow cursed, trying to sound angry but placing the jacket where she found it with affection.

Widow continued to prowl, the sounds of her program giving her confidence and calmness, and when she spotted Lena's phone on the arm of her nice, leather couch, the sniper couldn't help but find herself curious. What was Lena really all about? Who did she converse with on the regular? What sort of pictures did she have stored? Widow didn't hesitate. She needed to know. She wanted an excuse not to care anymore. She attempted to enter the device, but it was locked, of course, and so ended that lapse in judgement, fortunately.

Widow sighed, unable to simply sit, and paced to and fro, missing Lena, and hating herself for it. Absence made the heart grow fonder. A cliched line, yet an appropriate one nonetheless.

The shower stopped. Leave it to "Tracer" to take a fast one. No more than two or so minutes passed before the girl stepped out, her hair dried somewhat into more of a mess than usual, and a towel around her slender body. The slight freckles peppered about her nose seemed more pronounced, and her dark eyes appeared bigger, more attractive than before.

'You doin' okay? Heard the lame lines from your show from in there. Hahah!'

'Heh. Well, they're more elegant than anything you could ever hope to relay.' Widow shot back, and Lena laughed even louder.

'True enough! True enough!' She activated Athena, the towel shaping her tiny curves pleasingly. 'Hey, Athena. Can I ask for an extra bedding set for my guest here?'

"Lena Oxton. Grandmaster class. Currently in charge of Widowmaker. Threat level: lethal. Everything is well?"

'Oh, yeah. Having a gay ol' time here. Pun kinda intended?'

Widow rolled her eyes, Athena's classification of her stinging less thanks to Lena's nonchalant reaction, as if dismissing the old persona with flippancy.

"Affirmative. Bedding on the way. Expected arrival in fifteen minutes."

'Thanks, Luv.'

Lena turned to Widow, moseying on over to the woman and observing the program with crossed arms. She smelled fresh. The dampness of her skin was enticing. The fact a mere towel covered her made the energetic woman seem more vulnerable, and something in Widow feasted on the weakness.

'You really enjoy this, huh?'

'Gerard thought it ridiculous as well.'

'He did? I mean, it's a little goofy, innit? But I just think it's plain cute, if I'm gonna be honest.'

'Cute…?' Widow flinched back.

'Come on, Luv. You're kinda intimidating, right? So, the fact you're into somethin' like this is an adorable contrast. It's obvious. Got a thing for strong ladies with quirks like that.' She giggled, tapping Widow on the shoulder and skipping back to the washroom.

'Just gonna change. I'll be back in a jiffy. You doin' okay?'

'Fine…'

'I'll throw on some coffee for us and whip up a snack or something. We'll have a little rest and relaxation as ordered. Girl's night and such, know what I'm saying? Watch some more corny shows. Maybe a movie? How does that sound?'

'…Not terrible.'

'Brilliant! Be right back.'

"Not terrible". If only Lena knew how lovely it all truly sounded. Normalcy. A life beyond killing. Did this girl even realize how incredible the gifts she offered were? What drove her to be so selfless? She had already proven she wasn't one to take advantage of Widow. It was all part of the problem, really. Widow returned her gaze to the television, witnessing a middle-aged couple embracing one another and kissing.

She had loved Gerard. She had. He was a good man. But something about Lena and how she treated Widow warped her foundation and understanding of what that powerful emotion could be and the way it manifested. She was beginning to care for the girl. It was quite perplexing. Troubling, even. The kiss was enjoyable. Widow somewhat prayed it wouldn't be, but Lena's touch and lips were worth considering after the fact.

Why couldn't it be simple? Why couldn't Widow stay true to her word?

Lena returned, wearing that accursed ensemble from before. Her toned legs were on full display, and her modest features gave her a youthful, girly charm with a dash of masculine, tomboyish mischief. She had a pretty collar, Widow decided, and her stomach was utterly adorable. Her hair was done up a little more than before, pushed back and completely out of her face thanks to a small headband Widow could barely see.

'Oi! Whipping up coffee now!' She skipped into the tiny kitchen, and Widow blinked her lingering gaze away, catching glimpses of the girl's cheek peeking out from her shorts when she moved a certain way. She talked aloud as she worked, rarely one to simply let silence be, and Widow pretended to be more interested in her silly show than every action Lena took in an effort to create a beverage for herself and Widow.

'Can I just call you Amelie for now on?' Lena said eventually, linking the discussion with nothing, seemingly.

Widow thought about the question. She didn't even consider _herself_ Amelie completely quite yet, but perhaps this would be a step in the correct direction. However…

'You may. But only you. Everyone else should refer to me as Widow or Widowmaker, preferably.'

'Oho! I'm special? Nice!'

'You…are the one person who makes me feel like Amelie again. So, yes. I suppose you _are_ special.'

'Aw! Thanks, Luv! But give Ange a chance and I'm sure you'll be trusting her to use your real name too, yeah?'

'Potentially.'

'Heh!'

Widow smiled as well, liking how her words made Lena happy. To bring joy to another…yes. Gerard did that for Widow. Not all the time. He could be rather selfish, especially later in their relationship, but he was a good man. A good partner. Widow couldn't complain.

But did she ever feel so accepted and real in his presence? She was a well-bred woman, and he was brought up in a similar fashion. Expectations. They were present in the relationship. Widow hadn't really thought about it until now. She felt light. She felt free. She felt guilty…

'May I…ask you something?' Widow couldn't meet Lena's eyes as the Brit brought over the drinks, the smell of the black coffee adding to Widow's comfort.

'Course, Luv! Anything, really.'

Widow waited, blowing on her drink and taking a small sip. The sounds from her program were distracting, but she wanted the noise for now. Once she delayed herself enough, Widow made her inquire in the spur of the moment.

'Have you always been this way?'

'Um…Might need to be a bit more specific there.'

Widow chewed on her lower lip briefly, but went on.

'Your…preferences.'

'Oh! Hahah! Have I always been into girls?'

Widow nodded, and Lena straightened herself out, seeing the other woman was quite serious.

'Well, when you're a little lady it's tough to figure that kinda stuff out, you know? I just knew I didn't wanna kiss a boy. My folks figured I'd grow into it, and I sorta thought I would, too. But, well, I figured out that just wasn't who I was.'

'…How?'

'So curious! Heheh! One of my closer friends at the time was nervous about being "good enough" for her boyfriend or some such nonsense. She had, like, zero experience with that kind of stuff, so, I…uh…just offered to help her out. Think I was twelve or something?'

'What did you do?'

'Ugh. I feel kinda bad now, really.' Lena blushed, and Widow could look at her now. It was her turn to hesitate by drinking some of the steaming beverage. 'I kissed her and…stuff. I-I mean, I really liked it. Really. Sent a jolt all the way through me. I touched her a bit, and she…freaked out. Weren't so close after that. Lost a lot of my friends then. It was okay. I fit in better with the boys anyway.'

Widow grimaced, hating the thought of a younger, innocent Lena going through such a learning experience.

'But I'm good now! It's only a part of who I am. Took me a bit to figure that out. If people don't like it, they can shove off. I'm way more complicated than just having a fancy for the ladies.'

'…Complicated may be a stretch, but I _do_ agree with you otherwise.' Widow smirked, and Lena nudged her a bit.

'Bloody hell, Amelie…'

Widow shivered, but not displeasingly.

'Tell me about your most recent lover.' Widow pressed, and Lena's face dropped, her eyes losing their sparkle and her entire demeanor changing.

'Um…I-I'd rather not, if you don't mind. Bit of a sore spot still. Broke up before joining in with Overwatch again. Heh.'

Widow's eye twitched. Ah. Jealousy. She hadn't experienced such a thing in quite some time, indeed; if ever. The more reluctant Lena was, the more Widow desired to know. However, Lena had done nothing but show Widow respect. Thus, the sniper silently muffled herself, refusing to push Lena no matter how much she wanted to.

'…I see.'

A lengthy pause, the mood soured no thanks to Widow's invasive curiosity. She took a few more sips of her drink, trying to find peace in the liquid's warmth in her throat, but only when the T.V. suddenly blink off did Widow return to the moment.

'Emily. That's her name.' Lena breathed out deeply, an angle of the woman revealed once more to Widow. This young lady hated to be vulnerable. Despised it even. This raw honesty burned into Widow's soul. This connection was unique. When had it gotten to this point?

'Truly?' Widow tried to lighten the mood uncharacteristically to encourage the other girl. 'So similar to mine? What are the chances?'

'You're telling me.'

Widow swallowed. Her neck felt tight.

'What did she look like?'

Lena blinked for a second longer than necessary. This side of her wasn't so bad either, strangely enough.

'Red hair. Bloody gorgeous red hair. Pretty brown eyes. Freckles all over. Smart. Level-headed. A little shy, but confident at the same time. Dated men all her life. Didn't think I had a chance, and then…'

It bothered Widow more than she could have ever anticipated. The clarity of the statements ushered her tentative emotions forward. Envy was a cruel mistress.

'You loved her.' Widow shook her head, correcting herself. ' _No_. You love her still.'

When Lena didn't answer, Widow crunched her teeth together, a fury building within her now.

'And yet, you insist on teasing _me_. Whatever was your goal, little girl? I am no whore. I would never give myself to you for but a night and be done with it. You claim to care for me. _Really?_ You _lust_ for me. That is all. That is all it could ever be with such fondness in your voice when speaking of this woman.'

'If you think everything I did was just to get lucky then you don't understand me at all.' Lena snapped back, making Widow flinch her words were so full of hurt and frustration. 'I saw someone in need. I saw a fellow human screaming – begging – for help. I'm a hero. I don't ignore that kind of plea. The fact feelings for you grew wasn't what even I expected to happen, okay? Of _course_ I thought you were gorgeous. Of _course_ I fantasized about making love to you. Hell! I'll do you one better: I even imagined what it would be like to have you _and_ Emily at once. See? I'm a touch twisted, Luv, maybe, but I would never – _never_ – think of you as just a piece of meat to give me a pinch of pleasure. I'm _not_ like that, and I really, really thought you knew as much by now. If I didn't still have some feelings for Emily, that would be an insult to what we had. Do you still love Gerard?'

Widow's mouth tightened, thinking of the man and nodding slowly, stubbornly.

'That's right. That's what I bloody thought. But you're starting to see me a little differently, am I wrong? Maybe you won't admit it, but that kiss told me everything I needed to know. I won't push you, but if you're ever ready to maybe see if you can actually fancy another woman, then I'm right here. It might work. It might not. But you can't deny we have something special. I _like_ Amelie Lacroix. What do you think of Lena Oxton?'

Widow digested Lena's words, gripping her mug tightly. Her emotions – her rediscovered emotions – were difficult to understand fully, it would seem. She took a moment, reflecting on all that was said, and realized Lena had made some reasonable points.

'I…' She muttered. 'I admire you…Lena Oxton…'

'A-admire?' Lena half-laughed.

'And…I am envious of this Emily. So, perhaps…that gives me something to think about…'

Lena evidently wanted to pry further, but Widow refused her bluntly, asking where the promised movie was for the two of them to watch. Many an option was presented via a streaming program built into Lena's T.V., but Widow eventually settled on what appeared to be a sappy love story that ended up being a little overly dramatic, but right up her alley. The emotions were erratic and sometimes unreasonable, but Widow could better understand the character's motivations a little better now. The bedding and Widow's medicine were delivered barely five minutes into the film, and from then on, Widow remained on Lena's couch beside her, a blanket wrapped about her form and her remnants of coffee finished in time.

Lena chatted quite a bit during the beginning of the feature, but she started to yawn more and more as time passed, and she then nodded off here and there, Widow finding amusement in her inability to properly fend off sleep. She finished the story on her own, Lena passed out completely with only half an hour left of the movie. When the final credits rolled past the screen, Widow admitted to herself the moment was over, and she glanced to Lena, her head tilted back and her chest breathing steadily. Her neck was terribly exposed. It would snap much more easily than Gerard's.

'No.' Widow said aloud, as if commanding her body to forget any such notion. She turned off the T.V., collected the mugs, and lingered in the kitchen, glancing over to Lena and realizing she was smiling. This…wasn't so bad. Had she ever been this comfortable with Gerard? She thought she had. Really. But there was always a silent level of possessiveness about him, wasn't there? If Widow said something that indicated a moment of solitude on her part, he was rather gruff, as if he dared not risk losing her to anyone else. She saw it as love at the time, but perhaps it was romanticized?

No matter. Gerard was a good man. Far better than any Widow had in her life up until that point. Lena was…a different sort of human being, and naturally, with that, a different set of emotions manifested in her presence. Widow loved Gerard. What did she feel for Lena? It was becoming clearer, and with that clarity, apprehensive fear developed as well.

Widow took her medicine, turned off the lights, and made her way to Lena's bed, slipping into it, as she had been directed, and breathing in the Brit's scent. Her body heated at the sensory overload, and she held the blankets tight around herself, thankful for a normal sleeping arrangement at last. The day, weeks, months, and years seemed to collide into her at once, and she was asleep within minutes, but shaken awake again in what felt like seconds.

Widow's instincts almost put her into full assault mode, her limbs tightening in preparation to attack, but then two arms wrapped around her body awkwardly, and a deep breath escaped next to her ear.

'Lena…?' Widow whispered, but the girl was completely out, likely sleepwalking her way to where she rested most nights these days. Her thin body nestled into the back of Widow's, and she could feel her soft chest squishing against her form. Widow thought about shoving the girl onto the bedding set up to avoid this very scenario. She thought about slapping her awake and reprimanding her. She even thought about just taking the makeshift bedding nearby herself. All these scenarios made the most sense to the old Widowmaker.

Yet, Amelie found Lena's hand, breathed out shakily, and held it around her waist, drifting again into a slumber she never thought she would experience again.


	52. LII: Mercy

Mercy

Several days passed before Angela felt comfortable moving around Overwatch Gibraltar again. She didn't want to admit it to anyone save for Fareeha, but what she went through with Moira O'Deorain weighed heavily on her psychological state of mind. She had difficulty sleeping without nightmares. She flinched at sounds reminiscent of the mad woman's weapon which had so easily punctured Angela's body. She didn't favour tiny spaces. At one point, Fareeha gripped her wrist in a moment of affection, and Angela had flinched back aggressively, the notion of being bound tightly to a table flickering through her memories.

Angela suspected it was merely a passing notion of post-traumatic stress, but the more time went by, the worst it seemed to manifest.

Jack's actions upon returning from Oasis were at once moving and frightening. He took one look at Angela while she was still mostly bedridden and must've known something had snapped in her brain. He said very little during their exchange, simply sitting next to her and showing an uncharacteristic amount of emotion, his eyes reddening and his hold on her hand tight.

Still, Angela claimed she was fine once she discharged herself. Fareeha was as close by as she could be, but given her new class, her responsibilities had grown, and the rapidly increasing cases of omnics influenced by the God Program kept much of Overwatch busy. The good news was that Angela's stunt, and the footage captured by Fareeha, had given Overwatch some U.N. support. Although they were still officially illegally operating, some private backers ensured Overwatch could at least function somewhat competently without the risk of being arrested. Winston relayed there was still a vast amount of yellow tape, and the more war-savvy individuals at the top of command, such as Ana and Jack, easily deduced that there were likely U.N. members won over by Talon or worse that were actively rejecting the re-establishment of Overwatch.

Angela found herself looking over her own physical numbers and charts one afternoon shortly after returning to her duties when a soft chime to her office sounded, indicating a potential patient. The majority of her inner workings desired her guest to be Fareeha, for she missed the girl vastly recently, especially with her mortal reality no longer being a secret, its spoken of circumstances making the facts more tangible and terrifying.

'Yes?' Angela spoke through her intercom, and the peppy response wasn't exactly ideal, but not terrible either.

"Heya, Ange! Sorry to bother you, but I was wonderin' if you had a sec for Amelie here and me now?"

Lena. Lena and Amelie. They had become very close, it would seem. Not romantically involved quite yet, from what Angela could see, but obviously getting to that point. Widowmaker was becoming a more common sight throughout Overwatch Gibraltar over the past week, but it wasn't as though her presence was welcomed by all. Some agents had even gone so far as to leave the group entirely, feeling as though their lives were in danger, but most with issue submitted the appropriate complaints, urging Jack and Winston to reconsider her involvement in the fight.

Lena and Amelie had just returned from a miniature mission to relieve Jack of the pressure from other agents for a time, a small outbreak of influenced omnics subdued in a tiny city not even a couple hours away via air. Obviously, Widowmaker and Tracer made quick work of the mission, done within a day having time to spare. They were a powerful combination, possibly one of the deadliest pairs Overwatch had to offer. The only variable remained in Widow's brain, and that's evidently what Lena was here to discuss at last.

'Please. Come in.' Angela urged, unlocking her door and listening to the "swoosh" of the mechanism granting access.

Lena looked a little nervous, but confident and excited at the same time. Widow, on the other hand, carried herself with an overabundance of pride and balance. Her posture was somehow intimidating now that she wasn't cowering in fear of herself and the past that ripped her heart apart. She would only become more valuable as time went on, her skills unparalleled, and her abilities difficult to match. Lena had taken a huge gamble, but if Angela successfully removed the demons that urged Widow to kill any and all who threatened Talon, Overwatch would gain a Grandmaster class agent with risks no longer attached to her name.

'Thanks, Luv. Sorry again for busting in, but Amelie's been saying the medicine isn't working as well as it used to. Keeps thinkin' about shooting me in the back and all, you know?'

Only Lena could relay such unsettling information with this level of nonchalance. Angela gave Widow a glance, a pinch in her chest reminding her the sniper was involved in Fareeha's pain in relation to her mother. Other than her blue skin, however, Widow appeared normal enough, wearing some rather casual clothes that did little to hide her perfect figure despite most of her skin being covered. She was a victim. Angela reminded herself of this.

'So, might I assume you wish to go forward with the procedure, Widow?' Angela leaned back in her chair, watching the woman blink slowly and nod.

'Please. I would prefer not to hurt anyone here; not when you have all catered to my unconventional circumstances. I want to help. I want to bring down Talon no matter what.'

'An admirable notion.' Angela considered the request being made of her, her anxiety only increasing with the thought of performing such a complex and sensitive operation.

'Can you do it, Ange?'

'Other than Dr. O'Deorain, I suspect I'm the only one capable, yes. However, I wouldn't be performing my role adequately if I failed to, once again, mention the risks. The brain is extremely difficult to fix once damage has been done. I make no promises. The worst-case scenario is that you lose your sense of self entirely and forever, essentially dying. The probability for success, under ideal circumstances, is hardly over fifty percent. With all this knowledge, I must ask: are you still willing to trust your life to me, Amelie Lacroix?'

Angela watched Lena and the assassin exchange a quick glance. Ultimately, it appeared Widow was making the call. She nodded once again, although her stance faltered just slightly.

'Please.' She repeated, and Angela closed her eyes long and hard, turning in her chair and looking to her computer, hastily making requests for the best assistants Overwatch had to offer when it came to operations on site. She booked the room, rented out the equipment necessary, and finalized all other necessary procedures within minutes, sighing as she returned to the two women.

'It will be an all-day operation, I imagine. Two nights. The morning after the second, we will begin at exactly ten. Winston and Jack have already been notified. I do not require their permission. My rank rests rather high even among the Grandmasters, I'll have you know. I recommend you make good use of these next few days, Amelie Lacroix. I don't mean to be morbid, but I will not soften the truth: they could be your last.'

'…Thank-you.' Widow bowed, and Angela was taken aback.

'Y-you're welcome.'

'Thanks, Luv. Really. I owe you one. If you need advice with the whole love thing, let me know. It's pretty obvious you and Fareeha are an item. Couldn't be happier for you. Heheh!'

Angela rolled her eyes, smirking at the thought of her knight.

'I…shall keep that in mind, Lena. My thanks.'

'I seriously have a bunch of really neat toys for the ladies. It's absolutely daft what they've come up with these days! Don't even need a guy anymore! Hahah!' Lena went on, clearly excited about the affirmation. And although her words were a little crude, what she suggested _did_ spark some curiosity in Angela. She could never say anything in public, or now, but she considered private messaging Lena if her courage allowed it.

'If that's all…' Angela concluded, and she was left alone once more, only to hear a ding from her computer indicating an e-mail. 'My goodness.' She chuckled wryly. 'Rather popular today.'

Again, she wanted the digital letter to be from Fareeha, but it was Genji's address as the sender. He must've recently arrived back from his mission in Japan. There were no notifications to introduce a new Overwatch member, so, did that mean he failed to recruit his brother? A pity, if not entirely unexpected.

"Angela. If you have time, might I have a word?"

Direct and to the point. She was beginning to feel like herself again. Pulled from every direction. How had it never bothered her to this extent? Perhaps because of the ticking clock on her life? Maybe due to her own selfishness? Angela thought of her sister, and the growing impatience was sedated. She owed this to the world. She owed it to Gloria. Genji needed her. Angela wouldn't keep him waiting. Fareeha was clearly preoccupied at the moment doing heaven knew what. Angela could text her with her loaner phone, she supposed. Why didn't she?

"When and where would you like to meet, Genji?"

* * *

The younger of the Shimada brothers chose a somewhat high, secluded spot in Overwatch Gibraltar. It was near a set of stairs leading to the communication tower, and by the time Angela made her way there, Gibraltar's nearly famous sunset was bleeding across the sky, making for a beautiful view, as always. She found the cybernetically enhanced man sitting near the edge quite boldly, his legs hanging over the building as if taunting death once again.

'Good evening, Angela.' Genji spoke more happily than not.

'Hello there. Quite the view, isn't it? You don't mind if I don't join you directly at that point, do you?'

'Of course not.' Genji chuckled, and Angela seated herself nearby on the stairs, not feeling the most comfort from the constructs, but knowing a conversation with Genji was usually brief enough.

'So, you have returned.'

'I have. And you were, so I'm told, in critical health once again.'

'Heh. So it goes…'

'Not it I were there to protect you.'

'Fareeha accompanied me and, believe it not, saved my life, ultimately.'

'You wouldn't have been abducted to begin with under my watch.'

'Then Moira wouldn't be in our maximum security holding cell and the U.N. would still completely despise us. It was worth the risk, looking back. Jack had a vision, and I believed in it. Everything worked out.' Angela lied, and Genji shook his head.

'I do not agree with the methods. Your life is too valuable to everyone here, to the world, and…to me.'

'I understand that, Genji, and I will not be accepting such a task for quite some time.' Angela's body tightened. She always suspected Genji of feeling _something_ for her, but he was cautious when it came to _the_ Angela Ziegler, and she had hoped he would stay that way until her and Fareeha's relationship went public. His words were boldening, however, and Angela didn't want to hurt him here and now.

The man went quiet, shifting his positioning and sighing audibly prior to pushing forward with the conversation.

'I…failed to convince my brother to join our fight. We crossed blades. It was a difficult battle. I did everything I could. He shows signs of hesitation, but his pride undoes him, as always, and I fear Talon may use such foolishness against him.'

'You believe he would lower himself in such a way?'

'He is troubled beyond reason. He knows I live, yet even that does not sway him as powerfully as I suspected it may. If he had joined us…well, I would have been grateful. He may reach out to our cause still, but I do not believe we shall be so fortunate.'

'What makes you say that?'

'His eyes. The windows to his soul. They were filled with malice, fear, and shame. Such negative emotions will consume a man. They nearly destroyed me. We are alike yet not at once. I am discouraged by this failure, for it is a personal one alongside a professional sorrow.'

'Do not blame yourself, Genji. I know you did your best.'

'Perhaps…' The man turned to Angela, his cyborg enhancements humming softly alongside his action. 'However, it is not all for naught. Seeing my brother and his life of solitude, paired with yet another brush with death on your part has given me all the encouragement I need. Angela…it would honour me if – '

'Angela?' Fareeha's own voice entered the mix, and Angela nearly choked with relief from the near-perfect timing of it all. 'And Genji. Good evening.'

'Hello…' The man muttered.

'I'm sorry for interrupting anything, but I was looking for Angela, and a fellow agent said they saw you come up here. How are you feeling?'

'Not terribly today.' Angela shrugged.

'But not great either. Are you pushing yourself again?'

'No more than you are, I'm sure.'

'Then we should both take a moment. Have you eaten?'

'Not yet…'

'I'll take you out for dinner. My treat.'

'How generous!'

'I'll meet you at your room in about an hour?'

'I'm looking forward to it.'

'Wonderful.' Fareeha nodded, saluting Genji. 'I apologize, once again. Welcome back, Genji.'

Silence until Fareeha was gone, the image of her visage illuminated by the sun burned into Angela's imagination. She was still in her armour. She had wasted no time finding Angela the moment she returned from her mission. She was concerned about Angela's complete wellbeing. She was…so incredibly perfect.

'Dr. Ziegler…Am I missing something?' Genji shook his head, as if in a daze.

'I've recently updated my personal profile to include Fareeha Amari as my significant other. It's generally reserved for marriage, I'm sure, but I thought it a subtle way of progressively letting others know about our relationship.'

He was, understandably, utterly baffled. It wasn't the ideal way for the sweet man to find out, but it was sufficient enough.

'Oh. I see. Forgive my…ignorance.'

'No, Genji. I believe you are deserving of an apology as well. I _thought_ you might have developed some feelings for me, and I chose to ignore the signs. I did not wish to hurt you. I _do_ care about you, of course.'

'As a patient.'

'As a friend.'

'Ah.'

'But that is where such care concludes. Surely you know how long I have been evasive of the very idea of love. I thought myself a spinster for the rest of my life, and it was satisfactory.'

He responded slowly, consuming the new knowledge before him.

'So, what changed? How did Fareeha, a woman, shift your entire mindset?'

'The same way Zenyatta, an omnic, completely transformed yours.' Angela smiled, touching Genji's cold shoulder with a swelling of pity and parental affection. 'The perfect time, place, and person. The stars aligned, and I fell in love more profoundly than I ever thought possible.'

* * *

Was it true Fareeha didn't realize how good she looked in the simplest of outfits? The two women drove into town and returned to El Cortijo, the pub bustling as always and the greeters showing Angela and Fareeha to their seats. She was wearing a striped tank-top and jeans. Nothing extravagant save for some pretty bracelets on one wrist and her dog tag dangling lovingly within a touch of her subtle, tanned cleavage. Fareeha ordered drinks casually, knowing what Angela preferred, and rested her arms on the back of the booth's seating, looking ever so suave and gallant. Angela placed her hands between her legs, wondering if her black sweater and white leggings worked at all.

Angela couldn't stop looking at the other woman, glancing away when their eyes met shyly.

'What's this?' Fareeha chuckled, her fusion of masculine and feminine beauty overly prevalent in the moment for some reason.

'Nothing at all…I'm just quite pleased to be with you. I missed you profusely.'

'The feeling is mutual, Angela.' Fareeha sighed. 'They are making use of my suit and abilities, let me tell you.'

'That's good though, I suppose. This was your dream.'

'Part of it, yes. A little more than a quarter of what I want from life right now.'

'Oh?' Angela smirked, feeling haughty. 'Do tell what the other parts of the equation are.'

'A life with you, mostly.' Fareeha shrugged, easily dealing with Angela's teasing now and causing the doctor to blush subtly.

'My! Is that a proposal?'

'Hm. Not yet. It's still a little early for that, isn't it?'

Angela bit at her lip, nodding but imagining blips of what could be. She used to playfully joke about marrying her sister until she understood how utterly insane that would be. Although their relationship _was_ very young yet, Angela didn't hate the playful suggestion she had made regarding Fareeha and she.

'It is. Very much so.'

Drinks were placed before the women, and they both made their orders, Angela preferring something light, like the soup of the day and a salad, while Fareeha asked for the full course roast beef dinner.

'So, is this our place now, Fareeha?' Angela rested her face in her hands, gazing upon the other girl with more confidence and admiration.

'I think so. One of them, anyway. It's very special to me. The night when I was given the opportunity to take Angela Ziegler on a date is not one I will soon forget.'

'Nor will I.' Angela agreed.

'I want to make many more memories with you, Angela. I want to do everything possible with you.'

'I'll drink to that.' Angela raised her glass, clinking it with Fareeha's. They both took deep gulps of their beverages, exhaling in satisfaction.

'You're tired. It was a busy day?' Fareeha stated, easily understanding Angela's states of being.

'Always. Widowmaker and Lena approached me about performing brain surgery on Widow. They seem quite willing to go forward with the process.'

Fareeha leaned back. A flicker of thoughts and emotions passed over her mostly stoic features, but Angela was certain the woman had rightfully conflicted feelings.

'I see. How taxing will that be on you?' Yet she expounded upon worry for Angela, at the end of it all. Of course.

'Extremely. It will be an all-day affair, I'm sure, and I will get few breaks considering the organ I'll be working on. I scheduled the surgery in a couple of days, to give Widow and Lena opportunity to make the final decision, just in case. It's been quite some time since someone's life was so delicately placed in my hands. One wrong move and I could kill her, Fareeha. It…is rather stressful, I'll admit.'

Fareeha reached across the table, taking Angela's hands and squeezing them tightly in her own.

'A-and,' Angela continued, attempting not to tear up. 'She hurt you. Inadvertently, of course, and I can understand that logically, but I care about you so much, and knowing she caused you pain…It is the downside of being human and emotional, isn't it? Reason and this "love" I feel cannot come to an agreement on the matter.'

'Thank-you.' Fareeha spoke softly. 'But I am fine. Widowmaker is a victim. Help her, if you can.'

'…Very well.' Angela gave Fareeha's hands one final grip before trying to pull them away, the waitresses and other guests easily seeing the public display of affection, its intimacy hard not to notice.

'Not yet.' Fareeha grinned handsomely. 'I could hold these all night.'

'T-then you should.' Angela said it before thinking too hard about the connotations.

'Pardon?'

Angela took another drink.

'Sleep with me tonight, Fareeha. I've missed you. I don't want to be apart from you.'

'Is that…allowed?'

'As a Grandmaster I don't truly care what the protocol is. I ask for little. If you would be willing, then I would love to have you.'

'It would be an honour.' Fareeha tipped her drink into her mouth, her strong neck convulsing as the liquid went down her throat.

Angela snapped her gaze away. She and Fareeha hadn't made love since Oasis. It felt like so long ago, and now that Angela was feeling better, she was thinking back fondly on that night, her body aching with longing and the images of Fareeha touching her all over stimulating on their own.

It wasn't long before both meals were brought over, the scrumptious aroma of well-made food enough to make Angela's stomach growl in anticipation. She and Fareeha both dug in happily, their elevated yet personal conversation continuing with clear mutual understanding and affection.

'You have made me very proud, Fareeha. Have I told you that recently?'

The other woman struggled to swallow, ever difficult at complimenting.

'You may have…'

'I don't think so. I suspect you don't wish to make a spectacle of your achievements, but they are to be commended. To rise to the Master class so hastily upon recently joining Overwatch? Why, few can claim such success. Save another doctor or two, or perhaps pull a team of agents through a second, seemingly impossible challenge and you may stand with the rest of the leaders as a Grandmaster sooner rather than later. Although, they only allow ten Grandmasters at a time, for the pay increase is quite impressive.'

'Yes. It is a great accomplishment. _You_ are the one at this table who should be admired first and foremost.'

'I was gifted from a young age, Fareeha. There's a difference. I harnessed my natural abilities, and the results were to be expected with any amount of effort on my part. True, I dedicated my life to my research, and thus, I was rewarded, but the foundation was there from birth. I was lucky.'

'My mother is a legendary sniper. Her battle instincts rest within me. I can feel them. We're not so different.'

'But your success is due to your selflessness, bravery, and strength; all of which you have consciously and committedly developed. _That_ is why I am proud. _That_ is why I look upon you and am filled with unparalleled joy for having such a woman as my partner.'

'…I am glad only because it means we are not so far apart.'

Angela shook her head with a sigh, smiling.

'I love you very much, Fareeha. Shall we simply leave it at that?'

'I would appreciate it.' The girl's cheeks were cooling at last.

'And…?' Angela poked playfully.

'I love you, too…'

The two women laughed, and as they neared the end of their meals, Fareeha dug around the pockets of her pants, extracting the loaner phone she had and tapping through a couple of things. Another aspect of the girl Angela adored. The world was completely connected, capable of moving about socially on readily available devices ever on hand. The internet was everywhere and freely available. Many chose to live through such tiny screens, missing the very present around them, and that was their choice. Angela had learned through Fareeha, who only used such technology when necessary, that what was in front of her mattered most; especially when the view was so gorgeous.

'I spoke with Jack.' She mentioned, lowering the device for a moment.

'Were you frightened? He can be rather fierce, but it's mostly a façade.'

'A little, but my anger managed to override anything else. I was quite curt.'

'Ah. As you can be.'

'And I thought there was a chance of losing my rank…'

'Oh!'

'But he…was very humble. I calmed quickly enough. Even I could see he hated what he did to you.'

'Yes.' Angela said distantly. Jack hadn't changed. No. That wasn't true. He had. He cared that much more, even if he pretended he couldn't anymore.

'So, he and Winston have provided us with these.' Fareeha turned her phone, an e-mail opened indicating a trip to South Korea's primary tourist attraction: Busan's Haeundae Beach. It had been completely overhauled since the Omnic Crisis, and in an effort to help stabilize Korea's economical and political state, was made to be incredibly appealing to travellers; even more so than before, which was saying something.

'A…vacation?'

'So it seems. It's only for a few days, but Jack said he owed you that much, at the very least. I'm coming with you, of course.'

Angela couldn't recall the last time she took time off. The closest form of vacation she had was something like this very night. A few hours where she _might_ not be called upon for yet another emergency. To take so much for herself…it didn't seem right.

'I think you should accept.' Fareeha encouraged, as if reading Angela's mind. 'Your body needs the rest. You've put it through hell. Perhaps take some time to leisurely review the options available to you so that your future isn't so calculated. I'll…try and help.'

Angela nodded slowly, imagining what it would be like to walk along Haeundae's enormous beachfront with Fareeha next to her, hands interlocked and sand between their feet. Fareeha in a bathing suit. Making love in a glamorous hotel room. She fancied it all, but the pit in her stomach tugged at her soul, already tallying how many lives may be lost without her around.

'What of the omnic that has been known to appear in the ocean nearby? It hasn't been dealt with proper, has it?'

'Apparently there are defensive measures that have held it a relatively safe distance away from land for quite some time. Something about mechs? I only scanned the files briefly.'

'Ever one for the basic facts before moving forward.'

'Honestly…' Fareeha stammered. 'I was distracted by the thought of you in swimwear. It was…difficult to focus at the time.'

Angela howled at this, covering her mouth and continuing to giggle, flattered and a little embarrassed at once.

'I'll need to purchase one, to be quite truthful.'

'O-oh!'

'But perhaps I'll do so alone. Keep it a surprise?'

Fareeha swallowed, finishing her drink and ordering another. It was adorable.

'Does that mean you'll accept the gift?'

'…I shall.' Angela committed to Fareeha, knowing doing so would increase her chances of following through and not submitting to her old way of life, where she lived for everyone but herself. Gloria wanted her to be happy. Angela wanted to honour her sister's memory by saving as many as she could. This was a compromise of sorts. She couldn't help anyone if she didn't help herself here and there first, correct?

* * *

Fatigue proved a cruel master. Angela nodded off and on the entire ride home. She claimed flickers of moments, holding Fareeha tightly as she was escorted to her room. The woman helped undress her, kissing her all over as she did so. Angela remembered sighing loudly, gripping her girlfriend's strong arms and being eased onto her back. She held Fareeha's head, her black, silky hair feeding through her fingers and the woman kissing between her legs with paramount affection, caressing her gently and working magic with extreme precision.

In another moment, Angela felt the woman's arms around her, the light turned off and soft lips massaging her neck in between utterances of pure affection. Angela hummed in delight, merging her hands within Fareeha's and squeezing with all her might.

'Stay…' Angela whispered, confusing herself even.

'I am not going anywhere.' The voice of her love responded tenderly.

'Stay with me, Fareeha…' She needed to repeat.

'I intend to.'

That night, Angela recalled what a true night's rest could be.


	53. LIII: Tracer

Tracer

'Where on earth are you taking me? Surely it isn't another mission, yet you're using the Slipstream once more? I thought such a mechanism caused you some form of anxiety?'

'Just a sec, Luv. About to jump. Hold your breath!'

Lena _was_ nervous. She doubted she ever wouldn't be. But this trip was worth it. It was worth stretching the influence of her Grandmaster name to use something as powerful as her current vehicle. Widow was going to have brain surgery. There wasn't any hesitation in her resolve anymore. She hated the killer within. She wanted it dead. It had killed her husband. It had soiled her pretty, smooth hands. Lena wanted to help her prepare for the immense risk. She was likely more frightened of the prospect than Widow herself. Perhaps that made sense, for Lena hadn't lived in the nightmare. She could only pretend to understand.

'Goodness. I will likely never become accustomed to such…warping.' Widow coughed.

'Right? I've had some practise, what with the chronal accelerator and all.'

'Indeed.'

'Just one more jump and we'll be there.'

'But again, I must ask: where is "there"?'

'That's a secret, milady.'

'Oh? Where did you pick up such a term of endearment so suited for myself?'

'Just a little research did the trick.'

'Heh.' Widow smirked and turned away from Lena, which meant she liked what she just heard, it seemed. Lena was still picking up on her little quirks, but Amelie was becoming more and more clear, and after the brain surgery, if all went well, she would be nearly fully restored.

'You look nice, you know?' Lena pressed, feeling her cheeks burn a little. Widow was in a simple but gorgeous black gown she herself had picked out. Lena had asked her to dress up a little. Her hair was in a messy updo, and her makeup had been applied masterfully with the limited resources Lena could provide, considering she herself didn't wear much to begin with.

'A rather safe compliment, but one I shall gracefully accept.'

'Bloody beautiful…' Lena muttered to herself.

'Ah. Much more in character.'

Curse her heightened senses.

Lena had awoken recently to a very pleasant experience…at least, she was fairly certain she had. She recalled blinking her sandpaper-filled eyes to the soft grip of the woman next to her, hand overtop hand, and bodies pressed lightly together. The only variable lay in the fact Widow had separated herself from the scenario so quickly that it didn't feel real half the time. Lena had inquired about the intimacy found between them that night, but Widow remained elusive, never committing to doing so or not. It was a distant dream at this point, which was upsetting in its own way.

Still, Lena was enjoying their interactions with every passing day, and she could innately tell Widow was becoming less and less adverse to the concept of forming a relationship beyond friendship with the Overwatch agent. As exciting as that prospect was, the recent discussion/argument surrounding Emily hung over Lena's head more than she wanted to admit. She actively attempted not to think about her past lover overly often, but she truly cared for her then and now, and Lena wasn't sure what to do with those lingering emotions when Widow appeared to be getting closer relationally.

'Alrighty. Just about time. Ready?'

'I don't have much of a choice, do I?'

'True enough. True enough.' And Lena initiated the warp, double checking the coordinates seconds before hitting the command. She and Widow blitzed through the miniature wormhole created, and were soon hovering above a lone mansion in southeastern France.

Lena turned to Widow, grinning sheepishly as the woman gasped, blinking slowly and mouth agape.

'You didn't…' She uttered near-silently.

'I did, Luv. Thought it might be a nice little something before letting Ange do her thing. Hopefully it's not…um…painful or anything, you know? I'm sorry if it was the wrong move. I just wanted to give you a gift or…you know. Heh. Said that already. You know. You know. Jeez…'

Lena couldn't see Widow's face, but the woman's hands were over half of it, her shoulders quivering subtly.

'You…meddling fool…' She squeaked out.

'Maybe I am.' Lena admitted, knowing Widow needed a second. 'Just goin' to land our birdie. Not a lot of space to work with here, but I think I got it.' It _was_ difficult, considering the lack of flat, open lamd directly around Chateau Guillard, but Lena was quite good at flying, and handled herself well enough, feeling the impact of the earth around her aircraft, and turning everything off so that a deep silence filled the tiny interior.

'You good? Wanna take a look around? I asked some of our agents posted nearby to do a quick investigation of the place to make sure there weren't any unwanted guests. Should be clear. Apparently, most things haven't been touched since you and Gerard left?'

'May I…have a moment?'

Lena hesitated, but the struggle she heard in Widow's voice gave her the nudge she needed.

'Sure, Luv. I'll be outside.'

Was this right? Was this place attached to the monster Widow had been forced to become? Was this where Gerard's corpse had been found? Lena best be on guard just in case. If Widowmaker's true urges were to emerge anywhere, it would be here, where it all started, more than likely.

Lena gazed up at the enormous mansion. It quickly made her realize what kind of world Amelie had lived in until Talon got involved. It was much too large of a living space for Lena, but she could appreciate the surrounding area and view more than anything. Bountiful trees, a secluded island, a bustling city not too far off. If this was the kind of life Widow wanted once all was said and done, Lena wasn't sure they had a future together…not that she was considering that far ahead too seriously anyway, but still.

'Thank-you.' Widow stepped out of the aircraft, her mascara just a little smudged. She had collected herself promptly. Lena wished she let her emotions out more. It wasn't healthy to hold back so.

'We don't have to poke around. I just thought – '

'You thought well enough.' Widow went past Lena. 'However, this building is a fortress in and of itself. Your little agent friends wouldn't be able to enter, let alone any real intruders. The government here is well aware of the value of this place, and I can only imagine it is under surveillance even now. Why else would Talon use Gerard's own wife to kill him? It was the perfect murder.'

She placed her hand over a security device near the front door and allowed her eyes to be scanned. There was an error message, but Widow overrode it with a voice command and password.

'Any forceful entry would notify the authorities and the weapons on site. Only Gerard and myself were capable of unlocking anything when the chateau initiated its full defensive measures. My new eyes evidently gave the network trouble, but thankfully my fingerprints and voice have not been modified in any way.' Widow opened the large double doors, the darkness of the front hall cascaded with only beams of sunlight through cracks of curtains drawn. 'Shall we?'

'Yep!'

Lena followed Widow into the mansion, and she felt as though she had teleported back in time. While there were well-hidden modern mechanisms in place, they were united into the integrity of the construct with perfect craftsmanship. Widow didn't bother opening any curtains. She was likely not intending on staying too long. That was fair enough. The fact the woman was even functioning so gracefully was a testament to her upbringing. Or perhaps memories of the conduct she served in such a place were manifesting the more the building enveloped its guests.

'I always thought this dining room unnecessarily large. It was only Gerard and myself sometimes, and a meal enjoyed in solitude mostly. Indeed, there were servants, but they kept their distance, as was commanded of them.'

'You ate alone?' Lena tipped her head.

'More often than not, yes. Gerard was a very important man, as I'm sure you've heard. His efforts to bring down Talon were effective enough for them to implement a rather elaborate plan to stop him once and for all. He approached the fire too closely, and thus, was burned.'

'Amelie…?'

Widow shivered. While Lena enjoyed how talkative the other woman was being, there was a coldness in her voice, as though Widowmaker was speaking more than Amelie. Was it a form of self-preservation? Lena swallowed, not having brought her guns for multiple reasons.

'Let us move on.' Widow encouraged, and the pairing did just that until they entered a hall so large it could fit a small house within it. The roof was high enough to touch the sky, it seemed, with paintings reminiscent of art from the golden age of imagination and innovation long past. Angels, robed figures, holy images mixed with progressive takes on mankind at the time. The colours were wistful but powerful, the images transformative in nature. Lena squinted, attempting to take it all in.

'Where the odd gathering would be held. Gerard and I were rather high in the economical ladder within France. To host a celebration for the simplest of reasons was expected on a near bi-monthly basis. I did not hate nor love the events. Gerard revelled in them. Naturally. He was quite popular. Ever surrounded by women despite my presence.'

'Meh. Girls are competitive.' Lena chuckled. 'They wanted to "win" him from you, you know? Cause you're so pretty and all.'

' _Pardon?_ '

'They probably felt threatened or whatever. Needed to validate their own worth? I don't know. Just noticed it here and there.'

'Perhaps…'

Lena imagined the balls that would be held. Like something out of a movie. Amelie's life was a fairy-tale. It made the end of her story that much more tragic. Lena looked at the young woman, seeing the way she lingered in the hall, her long hair draping upon her back, her strong shoulders and muscular form appealing from every angle. The mansion was so quiet. It was cold. It was empty. Is this how Widow felt sometimes? Her life gutted and left to rot? It twisted Lena's stomach, and she fumbled with her phone, going to her song lists and tapping at a piece from a classic ballet about a wooden doll and Christmas.

'What is that?' Widow turned, her angular face catching a pinch of light.

Lena placed her device on the ground carefully, breathed out, and straightened her posture, extending her hand outward and bending the other behind her back.

'Care to dance?' She dared to ask. Another risky move, but she was practically forced into it, Widow's physical rhetoric begging for some kind of relief from the weight she attempted to bear in silence.

'With you?' Widow raised a brow.

'Don't see anyone else here, Luv.'

'Can you even perform the right steps?'

'Why don't you just find out, huh?'

A beat that lasted a few minutes it felt. And then, without a word, Widow glided toward Lena, taking her hand and allowing Lena to bring her close.

'Are you supposed to be the male in this exchange?'

'Let's just call me the lead, how about that?'

'Heh. So be it.'

Lena truthfully had little to go on beyond the dances she had seen in movies and such, but she did her best, capable of at least feeling the beat and making the appropriate short mixed with long steps, the weight of Widow's body in her grasp an aspect of the exchange she didn't dislike. It was a classic, wholesome song, and the movements both Lena and Widow incorporated alongside the track exemplified as much. As the piece went on, Lena found herself lost in the mystique of the tune, such authentic, raw musical arrangements hard to come by these days with a tendency to digitalize many songs. There was something distracting about the flawed yet passionate sounds, and Widow hummed along, closing her eyes and allowing Lena to take her on a little ride.

When the song reached its climax, Lena wished it would go on regardless, yet the final notes performed their task, and Lena brought Widow into her body, pressing their forms together. The older woman did not exactly resist, but hardly gave much to go on regarding the act.

'H-how was that?' Lena breathed, her lips inches from Widow's. She wanted to kiss her, but again, she wasn't getting the same signs as when she had made her move a little while ago.

'Satisfactory.' Widow responded.

'Just "satisfactory", huh?'

'Indeed. Better than expected, if I'm to be truthful.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'Yes.' Widow met Lena's eyes, her yellow, cybernetic irises fluctuating analytically prior to turning away. 'It was…nice. Thank-you.'

'My pleasure.' Lena smiled, the relief bountiful. She grabbed her phone, wondering if she was being silly. Had Widow just humoured her? She was hoping to lift the woman up, yet she seemed the same as before.

'Let us continue…' Widow dictated, and Lena followed her up some large, windy stairs, the true expanse of the mansion continuing to astound her. They moved through a number of halls until Widow entered what was obviously the master bedroom. She hesitated at the entranceway, and Lena almost touched her back for support.

'Ah. Wiped clean.' Widow went to the bed, its sheets made and everything within the room neatly organized.

'Is this…?' Lena could only guess.

'Yes. I killed him here. It's also where we made love many a time. Heh. I discovered I would be a mother someday here. A life lost. I can see the ghosts of Amelie. She is naïve, weak, and foolish. Ignorant to the evil in the world.'

Lena glanced around while trying not to be overly obvious about her intrigue. A picture of Amelie and Gerard remained by the bed upon a little dresser. She lifted the framed image to her eyelevel, noting how charismatic and confident Amelie's husband seemed. It was a wedding shot. Amelie looked a little solemn but content, while Gerard was – understandably so – over the moon.

'She was also happy, I think. She still deserves to be.' Lena offered, and Widow clicked her tongue.

'Your optimism again. Truly irksome at times.'

'Sorry, Luv.'

Widow wandered the space for a while, lost in her memories and thoughts, it seemed. She lingered here and there, eventually poking through a jewelry box and extracting a number of shiny articles before settling on a truly shimmering ring, its diamond resting within likely worth thousands or more.

'Tracer…' Widow almost hissed.

'Yeah?' Not Lena. Tracer.

'Another moment, if you would?'

'…Sure.'

Lena stepped out, shutting the door a little as she left. She waited in the enormous hall, unwilling to abandon Widow completely. She heard restrained, raspy whimpers, and with every muffled cry, Lena's jaw tightened, a notion of helplessness washing over her. Would she ever be capable of healing Amelie's wounds even a little bit? Was she hurting the poor woman more than anything by trying?

' _I'm sorry._ ' Widow whispered in French, and Lena gripped at her own chest, the apology laced with hurt. ' _I'm so sorry, my love. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry. I'm…sorry._ ' Her voice became blocked, as if a pillow was protecting the sounds from escaping. Widow was crying now, and she wouldn't stop repeating the apology over and over and over again…

* * *

The ride back to Overwatch Gibraltar was a relatively quiet one. Only when the Slipstream finally landed did Widow speak again, her syllables fragile but somehow still strong again.

'I appreciate what you did for me, Lena.' She started, and the addressment of familiarity was nice. 'I…needed to say goodbye to that life. I won't soon be returning to the chateau for quite some time. Whatever happens now, I have made peace with my sins.'

'Talon's sins.'

' _My_ sins, nonetheless.' Widow insisted, and Lena huffed in frustration. 'The operation is tomorrow morning, no? This could very well be our final endeavour together.'

'Don't say stuff like that, Amelie. You'll totally jinx it.'

'Dr. Ziegler cannot be jinxed, I'm sure.'

The two women reported their return, locking up the Slipstream and exchanging pleasantries with various agents that ranged from mild-mannered to outright tentative around Widow. Lena led Widow back to her room, ordering food over her phone. She had it in her mind to take Widow out for dinner, but it was getting late, and her guest seemed exhausted emotionally.

'I got some wine with our meal. Real nice stuff. You okay with that?'

'Red or white?' Widow grinned slightly.

'Red.'

'Good girl.'

'Heheh.' Lena had gotten lucky there.

'I'm going to change.' Widow escaped to the washroom once she found herself some clothes worthy of bed. She had free reign of Lena's dresser, but also had procured some outfits of her own over the last couple of days. Nothing elaborate, but comfortable pieces that fit her a little better than Lena's smaller, sportier inclinations.

Lena rubbed her eyes, going to her television and turning it on, the station still set to the same endlessly airing, cheesy soap operas Widow seemed to enjoy so. Lena watched the brutally awkward dialogue being delivered, the storyline, from what the time traveler could decipher, utterly ridiculous, yet somehow still charming in a weird way. Seeing what Widow had come from firsthand, Lena sort of understood the woman's intrigue with such a genre. Sort of.

The intercom in Lena's room dinged, indicating a call, and the woman jumped before accepting it.

'Tracer here.' She used her codename out of habit.

"I got word you returned recently, Lena. How did the trip with Widowmaker go?" It was Angela. She sounded like she was in a decent mood. Must've been with Fareeha.

'Grand…I think. I took her to her old house. Kinda emotional. She said she's thankful though, so…'

"Ah. She is likely conflicted emotionally. Understandable. Is she with you?"

'Basically. In the washroom right now changing.'

'I'm here.' Widow stepped out, a navy-blue nightgown draped over her physique somehow sexily. Lena took the opportunity to mute her television to prevent herself from staring.

"Very good. I simply wished to confirm the operation with you. Are you still willing to participate?"

'More than ever.' Widow answered simply.

"I see. Then there is little more to discuss. Please get sufficient rest. You'll be in my care come the morning. Do you have any questions?"

'No.'

"I suppose that is that, then. Until we speak again. Goodnight, Widow. Goodnight, Lena."

'G'night!'

'Goodnight…'

Lena blinked, glancing to Widow as she floated through the room.

'If all goes well…I will have my own living space here?' She asked suddenly, surprising Lena.

'Y-yeah. I'm guessing you'll rank into Grandmaster almost right away, given your skills and such. You'll get something pretty nice for yourself even as a Master. Fareeha is in the middle of moving now, I think.'

'Hmm.' Widow shifted until she was close to Lena, glancing to the television and smiling distantly. 'You don't have to endure such folly on my behalf.'

'Oh, I know. It's pretty daft, but I'm starting to warm up to the stuff a bit. Heheh.'

Widow hovered near Lena, touching her tattoo-covered arm gingerly.

'Staying with you…has not been completely awful.' She specified in a tiny voice.

'Right? You're a good roomie, Luv. Quiet as anything else. Guess that's an assassin for you? Hahah!' After the operation, they wouldn't be together as much possibly? Lena assumed she would still be assigned with Widow for most missions in the beginning, but once the fight was over, and once their lives could return to some form of normality, what would that mean?

Lena breathed out, watching Widow's silly program with a bizarre sense of melancholy. She _liked_ being around Amelie. She enjoyed her calm presence and silent kindness. She was a complex and confident woman, but an emotional and dainty individual at the same time.

'Jeez…' Lena exclaimed abruptly.

'What?' Widow cocked her head.

'I'm gonna miss you, Luv. Starting to hit me a bit here.'

A beat.

'I…will miss you too, Lena. However, there will still be occasions to tolerate one another's company, surely.'

'I know. Just won't be the same, I guess.'

'No. It won't be.'

Dinner and drinks were had with small talk anew. Widow was naturally a rather silent individual, but Lena managed to get her involved in little conversations that didn't mean too much. With the older woman's programs making enough noise in the background, Lena cleaned up the dishes, pouring herself and her guest another glass of wine.

'Not one to go with a fancy drink like this all the time, but it ain't bad, huh?'

'An acquired taste. A refined taste, one might say.'

'Oh! Super high-class stuff, I guess?'

'Precisely.'

Lena giggled, lifting her glass.

'To a successful surgery and…a new life.'

Widow smiled, her cheeks discoloured from the rising intoxication.

'Indeed. I am looking forward to it.

The clang of the glasses was satisfying, and Lena found herself in a warm buzz, eventually turning off the television and stumbling her way to bed. Widow used the washroom one last time, and Lena stretched out, staring at the dimly lit ceiling from the fading lights and watching the world spin slightly. She rubbed her stomach, her tiny shirt and shorts showing a shameful amount of skin, and sighed, knowing she was too used to Widow's presence already to be denied it beyond this moment.

'Bugger. Gotta get her outta my head…' Lena cursed to herself, tentatively bringing out her phone and staring at the bright screen before her eyes. She poked through her contacts, landing on a familiar name once more, shakily wanting to say _something_. A moment of weakness, she knew, but one she had to acknowledge nonetheless.

Lena's bed sunk in suddenly, and she dropped her phone off the side of the makeshift setup.

'Amelie?' She asked, wondering if Widow's semi-drunken state had caused her to miss Lena's bed which had been graciously offered yet again.

'Hmm?' The woman cooed, wrapping her arms around Lena and bringing her in tight.

'Y-you okay, Luv? Get a little clingy when you drink or something?'

A pause, and Lena waited patiently for Widow's answer, which came after a rather large delay.

'No. When I'm frightened.'

Lena blinked, but then nodded knowingly. Good. This was healthy.

'Gotcha. Can't say I blame you, Beautiful.'

'…May I…stay here?'

'Course. No problem at all.'

'Mind your hands.' Widow hissed quickly, cutting Lena off.

'I haven't done anything yet!'

'Yet! _There_! You see? "Yet", she says.'

'Hahah! Bloody tease.'

'…Perhaps.' Widow spoke into Lena's back.

'Ange will do her best, Luv. She's a bloody genius. World-known and everything. Mighty impressive.'

'I killed her lover's mother. How can she invoke such effort where I am concerned?'

'Because Ange answers to a higher calling; something I can't even get my head around sometimes. If anyone's gonna do it, it's her. You know that.'

'I do…'

'Trust her.'

'I trust _you_.' Widow shot back, and Lena touched her hand, gripping it into her body. She turned her face, brushing Widow's with her nose. She could only faintly see the other woman, the thin material of her nightgown leaving little to the imagination upon her form.

'Heh.' Lena laughed, noting the way Widow's yellow irises almost seemed to glimmer despite the darkness. 'Kiss goodnight?' She thought she could ask for, at the very least.

'…Fine. So be it.'

Lena's heart skipped as she closed the small distance, the sensation of Widow's full lips enough to send her into an instant state of hyper arousal. She went for a simple peck, however, parting slightly and feeling Widow's breath on her own, a desire-filled silence sitting heavy over the women. Widow's breathing was laboured just a touch, and Lena turned so their bodies were facing one another, subtle brushes with another leg, arm, or breast enacted with purpose or by accident.

It was happening again. Lena could feel it. Widow was reaching for her without even realizing it, perhaps. She had found some peace. She was heading into the unknown now. Even if nothing comes of it, Lena couldn't help herself anymore; not when this unique woman was willing to push her own preestablished boundaries.

Lena moved her hands along Widow's side, tracing up the tempting curves of her body and holding her neck, outlining below her ear with her thumb. She smiled with encouragement, and brought Widow in again, hearing the other girl inhale sharply as their mouths met, the kiss more intense and driven. Widow's voice groaned within the exchange, and Lena broke away, moving to the woman's collar, using every trick and technique she had in an attempt not to scare off what courage Widow was decidedly putting forth.

She felt Widow's hands holding her head, allowing Lena to move her lips over the dark skin barely illuminated by what little light remained in the living space. Lena tugged the neckline of Widow's nightgown low enough so that her cleavage was revealed, kissing in between the modest breasts while beginning to massage either or with a free hand. She could feel Widow's heart practically becoming normal-paced as her body stiffened between Lena's fingers and her hums of anxious pleasure escaped in progressively liberated tones.

Lena breathed out slowly, trying not to lose her focus. She went for Widow's legs next, continuing to pepper her with kisses between transitions, working her grip from the woman's ankle up her limb, feeling the tight, powerful muscles within from years of dancing and then more years of intense physical training to kill. As Lena moved higher, she willingly brought the nightgown's hem with her until it bunched just below Widow's groin. Lena only grazed the sought-after tip of Widow's otherworldly _derriere_ , biting down on her own lip with restraint as she kissed Widow deeply, her hands caressing the goosebump-littered skin becoming more exposed with every passing second.

As Lena planned her next form of play, however, she lurched forward, gasping in surprise and muffling her following moans into the bedding, Widow's hand gripping between her legs and easily moving her fingers just along the rim of her person, the moistness of her longing obvious.

'Did you honestly believe I would allow such submission so easily?' Widow whispered erotically, flipping the roles instantly by pinning Lena onto her back and lacing her mouth with her freshly wettened hand. Lena nearly wiped her body's yearning from her lips, but Widow was kissing her without pause, pushing the fluid deep into Lena's throat with her tongue.

It was all happening so quickly. Lena swallowed, and then her hips rose into the air, Widow groping her through her shorts, the dampness of the material slightly pushing into her.

'A-ah…! Amelie…Jesus…!' Lena cried, and Widow snickered, tugging at Lena's hair and kissing her again as she yanked her shorts clean off, stripping Lena's shirt in another beat and sitting atop of her, the woman's full body pressing against Lena's thighs.

'Hmph. I'm quite certain you weren't expecting this turn of events, hmm?' Widow sneered, lifting her nightgown over her head so that she too was perfectly naked. Lena's eyes widened, the woman's shape perhaps even more glorious than she had anticipated. Widow's waist and hips were beyond tantalizing, the way her body dipped and curved dramatically too tempting with every glance. Her breasts were small, but shapely enough, and everything – everything – else was tight, distracting, and begging for attention as far as Lena could tell.

'Now, little girl, provide me with something to remember. Let my better memories start here.'

Lena nodded slowly, tracing Widow's outline with teasing touches before dipping her hands between her legs and encouraging her overtop of Lena's face. From that point onward, Lena did everything in her power to provide Widow with the pleasure of lovemaking only another woman could ever hope to provide with relative ease. She consumed Widow's reluctant allowance, pressing her tongue deep into her cool body and stretching her backside in tandem. Widow's voice escalated as Lena worked, and although she tried to keep her groans of eroticism muffled, her hips couldn't belie what she felt as they rocked atop Lena's perfect technique.

She thought of the first time she performed such a service for another girl. She could only use what _she_ liked as a point of reference. It worked somewhat, but Lena quickly understood that every female was different, and reacting to their physical rhetoric was the only way to be a successful lover. Widow liked it when Lena went deep and curved her tongue inward. She enjoyed her butt being squeezed in conjunction with the penetration. She wasn't as sensitive as most women, Lena discovered, which made sense considering her modifications, but even still, Lena considered herself a skilled lover, and Widow was hastily becoming putty in her hands and mouth.

'H-hah…hah…Oh… _Yes. Yes…_ ' She transitioned into French from then onward, gasping and grunting, moaning and wheezing. Any other partner would have gotten off multiple times by now, but Widow was special. It took twice as much work and triple as much sense to understand how much stimulation her body required. Lena was up to the challenge. She considered bringing out one of her toys to push even deeper into Widow, but such a break in momentum was risky, and thus, Lena persevered until the familiar spasms in Widow's lower stomach began, and Lena knew she was getting close.

' _I-I'm…almost there…Don't stop, you wretched girl. P-perform…your duty. Take responsibility for…teasing me so with such…loving…_ '

Widow's pitch went up another octave, and she whined inwardly, falling atop Lena and giving the younger girl the chance to flip her to her back, quickly using her fingers to encourage the release. Widow gripped her wrist so tightly it hurt, and in another second, Lena felt the satisfying sensation of another woman's climax soaking her arm and sheets. She was somehow not surprised Widow's body reacted as such. Few girls actually did make a mess, but with the circumstances surrounding Widow, it made enough sense. Lena looked down at Widow as she licked up the remnants on her body, an impossible wish not to smile dumbly betraying her satisfaction.

'Watcha think, Luv? Ever feel somethin' like that before?'

'I don't…feel…' Widow gasped, covering her face with her hands.

'I'll give you that, you took _way_ more work than I'm used to, but I'd say you _did_ feel a wee bit, huh?'

Widow's gorgeous chest's heaving slowed at last, and she glared at Lena, opening her mouth to say something, but closing her eyes and sharply taking in more air while little shocks of electricity continued to filter through her.

'M-mm…!'

Lena crawled in beside Widow, leaning on her hand and staring at the other woman with affection.

'What made you change your mind, Luv?' She asked softly, moving some strands of hair from Widow's face. The other woman didn't answer right away, sitting up eventually and seeming to consciously cover her body with the positioning of her arms.

'…You, obviously.'

'Me…?'

Widow rolled her eyes.

'Do I truly need to explain it in fine detail?'

'That'd be nice, yeah.' Lena giggled.

Now, Widow sighed.

'Very well. But first…' She stared at the wetted sheets.

'Oh! Right. Gimme a sec.' Lena popped up, helping Widow to her feet and removing the sheets with a few sharp movements, taking them to her laundry and returning only to find Widow in her nightgown again. A shame. She could have looked at that body all night. With that, Lena also found her shorts and shirt scattered about, trying to gracefully put both on before joining Widow on her bed.

'So…?' Lena raised a brow mischievously.

'I…simply wished to feel something again, Lena. It's not overly complex. You haven't left my side the moment you took me from Talon. No matter what I said, or how I acted, you were there…smiling foolishly but…also brilliantly. I can sense your authentic care for my wellbeing and…something of an attraction formed, I suppose…'

'See? Love doesn't have boundaries! Hahah!'

'I do not love you.' Widow snapped back.

'R-right.'

'But I do not dislike you. I…perhaps I _do_ care about you to an extent.'

'And you think I'm cute, right?'

' _God_. Why must you ask such things?'

'Because I'm curious, of course!'

Widow huffed, biting at her lip and then looking at Lena again. She shook her head and touched Lena's face, moving her thumb over her cheek and squeezing tightly in another instant.

'You can believe what you will, little girl.'

'Ow! Ow! Ow!' Lena slapped the pinch away.

There was a pause, and Lena shuffled in close so that her arm was rubbing against Widows. The other woman didn't move away.

'Can I ask you something?' Lena went on eventually.

'Fine.'

'Did you rush it because of the operation?'

Widow hesitated, but then nodded slowly.

'I…have wished to do _something_ for some time, but…I would've preferred to wait, yes. However, if the worst comes to pass, I desired to leave you with…some form of memory of…of us.'

'Jesus…' Lena rubbed her hair. 'You really didn't have to. I got loads of memories already, and…'

'Are you crying?'

'Nah. Just misty-eyed, Luv.'

'For me?'

'Course for you!' Lena had to laugh amidst her forming tears.

'Such foolishness…' Widow sighed. 'But it is not so unpleasant.' She rested her head on Lena's shoulder.

'Everything'll be fine.' Lena told herself and Widow. 'We got loads of time to do more stuff together. When your brain is all better, it'll be even more fun. Besides,' Lena nudged Widow. 'Bad form to leave a lady hanging like that. Usually it's good manners to, you know, reciprocate the favour, right?'

'…Y-you're quite correct.'

'You don't hafta right now. Wait until a bit after the surgery maybe. Somethin' to look forward to.'

'So be it…' Widow muttered. ' _I'm sorry_.'

'Heh. Even I know what that means. No worries, Luv.' Lena said that, but the vision of Widow's naked body atop of her, the muscles and lines that shaped the other woman's perfect form was enough to make Lena's groin uncomfortable. She wouldn't force her hand, however. Widow didn't deserve it. She had so much on her mind. The fact _anything_ transpired was surprising enough.

'I'm only going to say this once, little girl.' Widow started, laying down on the bed and giving Lena the opportunity to join her closely. 'You…are a _wonderful_ human being. I am very fortunate to have met you when I did. Thank-you, Lena Oxton. Truly.'

'Aw!' Lena blushed, beaming from ear to ear. 'You're not too shabby yourself, Amelie Lacroix.'

'I am broken.' Widow countered. 'But I can function because of you. I can _feel_ more because of you. I can move beyond the shackles of my past and – however awkwardly – make love in some way without the weight of shame and regret.'

'You were hardly awkward, Luv. You ooze sex appeal.'

'How lucky I am, then, for I was excessively nervous.'

'Really?' Lena's heart leapt.

' _Naturally!_ Not even Gerard…had done such a thing. Yet you…you were…masterful…' Widow trailed off, and Lena could only giggle with glee.

'Got a bunch of other tricks up my sleeve for later if you're interested.'

'…We shall see.' Widow left it at that.

Another pause, but Lena held Widow tight this time, resting her head near the taller woman's collar.

'Anything else you wanna talk about, Luv?'

Widow's lips smacked apart, but nothing came for a time. Finally, her sensual voice cracked into the warm air, a wisp of reality filtering through the living quarters.

'If at all possible,' She began. 'Stay close during the surgery, Lena.'

Lena's eyes became misty anew, but she gripped Widow even tighter, pulling the sheets overtop of them both.

'You haven't gotten rid of me yet, Luv. What makes you think I'm goin' anywhere now?'

* * *

Lena awoke late into the night needing to visit her washroom. She did so as stealthily as possible, praying she didn't disturb the rest Widow so desperately needed leading into the operation. She was about to slip back into bed when she saw her phone light up, its sound muted, fortunately. The girl quickly checked the message, just in case, and her vision blurred into a near faint, her temples throbbing as her mind registered the letters that formed a collection of words she regretted reading just before attempting to sleep again.

"Lena. Can we talk?"

Sender: Emily.


	54. LIV: Pharah

Pharah

When had sleep become such an exciting time for Fareeha? Waking up to a new day, she turned a bit to her side and sighed inwardly, seeing Angela's deeply breathing form, her golden hair a mess around her and the strap from her white tank top loosely hanging over her shoulder. It was a vision of angelic quality, and Fareeha tried not to stir the woman, taking in the moment for all it was worth and shaking her head in disbelief, as she tended to do here and there. Sleep was exciting because she had been staying in Angela's bed every night since the doctor had asked her to. Sleep meant being close to Angela. Sleep meant sometimes making love. Sleep meant a picture in time like this very one Fareeha cherished as much as she possibly could.

A familiar alarm went off, and Fareeha took it upon herself to reach over Angela and turn the device off, her temporary phone having something of an obnoxious sound to it since Angela hadn't bothered to customize it yet. Regardless of her efforts, Angela stirred, blinking without moving the rest of her body and shivering for a moment, her legs eventually shifting under the sheets and grabbing hold of Fareeha's.

'Good morning…' Fareeha said gently, and Angela blinked again, shuffling in close to her, taking her hand quite suddenly and placing it over the front of her white, lace panties.

'Touch me.' She demanded eagerly.

'But…the operation…' Fareeha hesitated, yet once she felt the warmth of the material her own desires were instigated. She started caressing the beautiful doctor, a restrained whine coming out of her tightened jaw.

'Mmm…!' Angela hummed, pushing her forehead into Fareeha's collar. 'I-I'm ready. Inside. Please. Deep.'

Fareeha needn't be told twice. She moved the thin underwear to the side and eased her fingers within Angela, how aroused she was shocking the younger woman. She felt the very source of Angela's warmth now, and revelled in their closeness and intimacy first thing in the morning. There was something about the rawness of the act, the two women not having showered or interacted with anyone yet. Their skin was sticky, and Fareeha couldn't be sure her breath was wonderful, but none of that seemed to matter.

'H-hah…Good…So wonderful, Fareeha…'

Angela was truly into the exchange. Her eyes were in a haze, and her mouth hung open, gasping against Fareeha's skin, evidently as concerned as Fareeha was about the lack of hygienic polishing.

However, Fareeha wouldn't allow it. Angela's lips were too pretty, her face a Goddess' at the worst of times. She took the doctor's neck and angled her mouth toward her own, deeply kissing her lady and exhaling harshly through her nose, her rhythm within Angela intensifying alongside her own hip thrusts and soaked womanhood.

It was over too soon. Angela tightened around Fareeha and the vulnerability of her body's spasms brought the ex-Helix soldier satisfaction, the older woman's moans and tired expression elevating the brief experience even further.

'Oh…' Angela groaned, holding Fareeha tightly, peppering her dark skin with pecks of affection. 'My thanks. Oh, Fareeha. My thanks…'

'What was that all about?' Fareeha ventured to ask.

Angela didn't answer right away, still shivering from the release achieved.

'I had a dream, one might say.'

'Ah. So, that is it. Understandable.'

'It was…highly erotic.'

'You don't say.' Fareeha teased.

'You…u-um…were inside me.'

'Well, yes.'

'But not with your fingers or tongue.'

'Hmm?' Fareeha angled her head curiously.

'You had…a-a…male part, I suppose.'

'I had a…? O-oh.'

'I quite enjoyed it, I suspect, for I was beyond saving the moment I awoke.'

'Evidently.'

'What do you make of that, Fareeha?'

'You…would rather be with a man?'

Angela slapped Fareeha's arm quite fiercely, scowling in anger with sincerity.

'I'll forgive the foolish comment due to the uncomfortable subject matter, but never suggest I would rather be with anyone but you again, Fareeha Amari. It greatly frustrates me.'

'Understood.' Fareeha grinned. She had to say it, because a small part of her sometimes believed it regardless of what Angela adamantly insisted.

'Would you be averse to attempting such a thing?'

Fareeha didn't know how to answer the question because it seemed like quite the impossibility to begin with. She shrugged, not giving the notion much thought.

'Perhaps. I don't see how there's any need to discuss it, however, for I am a woman, and do not wish to have any biological change.'

Angela's eyes widened, and then she began laughing, covering her mouth with her shoulders quivering in delight.

'Oh, my sweet, pure Fareeha! Never change!'

'You mock me.' Fareeha blushed.

'No, no, no. I am more in love with you than ever. You're positively adorable.'

'I rarely consider myself that…'

'Well, yes. You're rather masculine, truthfully, but also undeniably feminine at the precise same time. You're all the more charming for it. Your naivete, however, is what makes you simply irresistible to one such as myself. And thus, you become ever more loveable.'

Fareeha shook her head.

'So, you obviously know something I don't.'

'These days, so Lena tells me, it's rather simple for a woman to enact the role of a man sexually. The devices and means of assistance for such things are, presumably, nearly boundless by this point in time. She has offered to expound upon her knowledge with me should I wish it. Would you be against such talk?'

'Not if you would enjoy the venture.' Fareeha answered honestly, something in her brain pinching.

'It would be amusing, at the very least. I, for one, wouldn't mind experimenting with such a sensation. The data would prove valuable, surely.'

'Hahah! Of course. It comes back to your research.'

'Why not?' Angela stepped out of bed, smiling to herself, her body gorgeous and tempting Fareeha all over again.

Fareeha glanced over the other woman's curves, resting her gaze between her legs for a second and swallowing. Her imagination was somewhat limited, but she could at least picture what it would be like to take Angela as a man. To slide into her and watch her face melt in submission. To fill her with Fareeha's worth and watch the substance ooze out of her beautiful form. Was it really possible? The more Fareeha thought about it, the more curious she became.

'In any case, we'll leave that as it is for now. At the moment, I must mentally prepare for a rather taxing day. Care to join me for coffee?'

Fareeha arose from bed, recalling Angela would be performing one of the most difficult surgeries in her life. Dr. Moira O'Deorain had made a mess of Widowmaker's brain, and now Angela was stepping up to the plate to undo the madness. How capable Fareeha's lover was. No matter what the Egyptian achieved, she would never stand next to the genius of Angela Ziegler.

Nonetheless, she approached Angela from behind as the woman began putting the drink together, holding her and gripping her body close to Fareeha's own. She kissed her neck and below her ear, pushing her fingers along the back of her head and into her hair.

'Oh…' Angela half-laughed. 'I would like nothing more for an encore, my dearest, but I truly must get to the laboratory as soon as possible.'

'I'm not looking for anything more than to show you my love. Is that acceptable?'

Angela's hand touched Fareeha's cheek, stroking it gently and turning back to kiss her on the lips.

'Always, Fareeha. Always, always.'

* * *

'Good luck.' Fareeha wanted to say more, but the words escaped her. Angela was completely dressed, her hair tied up and her lab coat draped over her slender form. The doctor smiled, poking Fareeha's chest.

'I'll need you once this is done. Make yourself available.'

'Of course.'

'I anticipate the operation lasting at least ten hours.'

'Understood.'

' _I love you_.' She said this in German, so few could understand her. Fareeha and Angela's relationship was progressively becoming public knowledge, but they wanted to have tact as well.

'I have faith you can do this.' Fareeha responded awkwardly, and Angela giggled, giving a wink and closing the door behind her, the lock sounding and a red light turning on overhead to indicate the surgery had begun.

'Bloody hell she loves you!' Lena exclaimed suddenly, having lingered since leaving Widowmaker in Angela's care. A few agents nearby perked at the announcement, and Fareeha gathered herself as best she could. 'Oh! Sorry, Luv. Care to go for a stroll?'

'Sure.' Fareeha saw no reason not to, and it wasn't as though she had spent a lot of time with _the_ Tracer outside of extraordinary, distractingly stressful situations. In a sense, Lena was one of the heroes Fareeha adored, and being with her in such a setting reminded the young woman of her dreams that had carried her this far.

'I can't poke around too far, okay? Promised Amelie I'd stay nearby.'

'That's a sound decision. I can't help but worry about Angela, to be frank.'

'Hahah! Won't say I blame you. But the doctors in the lab with her are trained agents as well. It's why they were selected to help, you know? Should be fine. Amelie's doin' a lot better these days.'

'I hope so.'

Lena brought Fareeha into a small sector barely one hundred metres from the operating facility. It was something of a waiting room, with chairs, a drinking station, a snack bar, and various televisions set up for those who wanted to relax and take a breather. With the God Program beginning to spread progressively more erratically, Overwatch Gibraltar was lacking in agents, for the most part, but the ones that remained due to the present circumstances surrounding Widowmaker were more than enough for any minor attack should it occur.

'Pull up a chair, my lady!' Lena dramatically offered Fareeha a seat, and Fareeha took the invitation, leaning back into the piece of furniture and waiting for Lena to talk again, for she wasn't sure what to say herself to the rather legendary girl.

'Thank-you.'

Lena bounced into her own, her face beaming as she rocked on the spot a little.

'So! How'd you do it? Didn't get a chance to talk in the Slipstream, am I right? But I'm _super_ curious! Ange is – and this is coming from someone who looks – basically one of the most attractive _and_ smartest girls I've ever met! No joke! Not quite _my_ preference, but even still, I wouldn't say "no" if it was, like, for a fling or something. Just sayin'. That sounds a wee bit crude, don't it? Hahah! Um…Hm. Bad first impression. But you gotta understand, I've known Ange for a bit now. _Never_ had a boyfriend. _Maybe_ went on a date once or twice? Can't even remember. Super rare, if anything. Sort of a hot topic for some of the Overwatch folk. How does a woman like _that_ not have a significant other for so long? Completely daft.'

'I'm not…completely certain how I "did it".' Fareeha answered the first question. 'We just sort of clicked, I guess.'

'Was it love at first sight for either of you?'

'Hmm.' Fareeha reflected upon the first encounter with Angela after so many years, her greasy hair, thinned out build, and tired presence somehow glorious despite the circumstances. 'For me, it may have been.'

'Yeah?' Lena giggled happily. 'Wow! That's super sweet! Have you always liked the ladies, or was Ange an exception?'

'An exception, without a doubt. I've always dated men…although rarely with any grand success.'

'What about Ange?'

'Er…I think she's similar, although her interest in men wasn't as obvious as mine. She claims she's in love with me as a person first and foremost. Gender didn't seem to be an issue.'

'Ah! Gotcha. Gotcha. So, sounds like you both fall in love with the spirit before the body. Neat.'

'Yes. That might be correct. However, I _do_ find Angela's form very…er…lovely.'

'Well, yeah. You both can play for either team. That's cool.'

'I suppose that's correct.'

'I'm girls only. Not even a pinch of interest in the boys. Like them well enough, but wouldn't do anything more than a hug with one. Just isn't there. Strange, huh?'

Fareeha nodded, but stopped herself, not wanting to insult Lena.

'Hahah! It's all good, Luv.'

'So, you can't even imagine being with a man?'

'God, no. No offence, but _definitely_ not my cup of tea.'

'Yet Angela states you know of ways to practically incorporate a male role into the relationship.'

'True, true, but it's just different knowing a lady is wearing the equipment, you know? Crazy kinky.'

'I-I see…' Fareeha did not, really, but she was already testing her own embarrassment, and decidedly withdrew from expounding upon her private sexual endeavours further unless asked directly.

'Anyway, enough about that, I guess. I can see you're a bit uncomfortable, and that's fair. Just don't get to talk to a lot of people around here about my love life or that side of the tracks. You'd think after all this time it wouldn't weird folks out, but it's _still_ sort of a thing. Kinda sad, innit?'

Fareeha could see Lena meant it. Her eyes dropped a bit, and she became fidgety before changing the subject matter. Fareeha felt bad suddenly, but wasn't able to say anything in time, it seemed.

'So, Amelie – er, Widowmaker – is bloody nervous about this. Ange seemed confident and all, but how's she holding up?'

'Also apprehensive.'

'Good. Least she's human.'

'True.' Fareeha chuckled alongside Lena, and the veteran Overwatch agent settled into the conversation further.

'What's your favourite thing about her, Luv?'

'So, we _aren't_ done with such subject matter.' Fareeha teased.

'Aw! This is different! No more sexy stuff. Fair?'

'Heh. Fair.'

'Oh! You have a bloody nice smile, you know that? Perfect jawline, too. You're a little androgynous, but so obviously a good-looking lady. Interesting!'

'Angela says as much at times as well.'

'She likes it, I'm sure.'

'I think so.'

'But back to the question!'

'Well,' Fareeha smiled again, becoming more comfortable with Lena as time went on. So, this was the sun of Overwatch. Made sense. She had an undeniable charisma about her that was beyond welcoming. Fareeha liked her quite a bit already, and being able to discuss her relationship without any reservations whatsoever was rather pleasant as well, although Brigitte was a close friend to such an extent, too. 'I struggle to pinpoint one single thing I can classify as my very favourite aspect of Angela, for it feels like an insult to all her other desirable traits.'

'Aw, rubbish! Listen to this one, huh? Full of the pretty talk!'

'It's the truth though.'

'I know. Trust me; I believe you. You shoot from the hip. Nothing wrong with that.' Lena laughed. 'Okay. Name just one thing you really like about Ange. How about that?'

'Fine.' Fareeha exhaled slowly, picturing Angela working away on such a demanding task, and shaking her head in frustration for not being able to help directly. 'Her commitment to saving others. It dazzled me the moment I laid eyes on her in Iraq. She's selfless to a fault. It's beautiful.'

'Heh.' Lena beamed, stretching and standing now. 'You two are crazy perfect for one another. I hope things keep going well.'

'I think they will…for as long as they can, anyway.'

'What's that mean?' Lena raised a brow, becoming serious suddenly. Her tone did a full one-eighty. She was much more perceptive than one might anticipate, given her flippant attitude.

'Oh. Nothing. I'm just…apprehensive about settling into this happiness.'

Lena waited for more, likely suspecting Fareeha of withholding information, but when the older woman didn't go on, Lena clapped her hands, dismissing the subject.

'Anyway, I'm sure you got some stuff you wanna do, but I enjoyed chattin' with ya. Kinda wanted to see what had Ange all tied up in knots, and now I totally get it. You're a keeper; ain't no doubt about that.'

'I'm flattered.'

'Oh, and…' Lena glanced around, leaning in close. 'Amelie wanted you to know she's super sorry about everything. If all goes well, she'll talk to you face to face and all, but I passed on the message anyway. Thoughts?'

'I've accepted what has taken place. My mother will react accordingly. I refuse to immaturely hold a grudge against a woman who was acting against her will.'

'Aw! Thanks, Luv. Really. She needs all the support she can get.'

'I'm sure she has plenty from you alone.' Fareeha grinned, and a little colour found Lena's face, but then she scowled, seeming stressed suddenly.

'R-right. She and I _have_ gotten kinda close…Heh…'

'Are you alright?' Fareeha ventured to ask, and Lena shook her head, shrugging distantly.

'Mostly, yeah. Got some stuff to think about is all.'

'I'm here if you need me, Lena.' Fareeha offered, the notion seeming strange but automatic at the same time.

'Thanks. But I think I talked your ear off plenty. Ange is gonna be busy for a while, but I promised Amelie I'd stay close, so, I'm gonna hang around here for most of the day unless an emergency happens.'

'Then I'll likely see you later.' Fareeha saluted, needing to go for her morning workout sooner rather than later.

'Sounds good! Until then, take care.'

'You, too.'

Fareeha strode through Overwatch Gibraltar with a bounce in her step. She felt taller. She felt stronger. She had reached her dream. She was a valued member of Overwatch. She was conversing with Mercy, Jack Morrison, Tracer, and Reinhardt. To think she would make it here after all her training. It had been worth the blood, sweat, and tears. It had been worth it all to meet Angela Ziegler…

* * *

The gym Overwatch Gibraltar provided for its agents wasn't as popular as one might expect it to be. Granted, many of the workers _were_ on circulating dispatch with the increase in abnormal omnic activity, but to Fareeha, it still seemed an underutilized perk to being part of such an organization.

She stepped into the state-of-the-art facility and was embraced by the sheet of pristine equipment, ever maintained and cleaned daily to ensure quality use. Only the sounds of one man's grunt welcomed her, and a softer, more encouraging female voice egging the individual on. As Fareeha got closer to the pair, removing her shirt so that only her sports bra remained, her heart made a small leap, and she gave Brigitte a silent salute.

'Uh-oh! One of your biggest fans is here. Better pump out that final rep, Rein.'

'Huh?' The man huffed, and when his remaining good eye caught sight of Fareeha, he gave a final yell, bench pressing an almost ridiculous looking bar of weights high above his mountainous form before slamming it into the rests and pushing himself up into a sitting position. His body was littered with scars of battle that Fareeha admired instantly, and he likely had more to share if it weren't for the wraps containing his muscular build.

'Fareeha Amari! A pleasant surprise this fine morning!'

'It looks like you're getting back into shape well enough.'

'Of course! The battles are intensifying, from what I understand, and one man can only be "resting" for so long.'

'After what you accomplished, and the toll it surely took, I doubt anyone would judge you for needing a break.'

'Bah! I can easily rest when I'm dead. For now, I am needed here, and I will continue to fight until my dying breath.'

Fareeha nodded slightly, glancing to Brigitte and catching a mournful yet endearing look about her. She caught Fareeha's stare, and gave her a warning scowl, to which Fareeha smiled in reply.

'Well, you won't do so alone, by the looks of things.'

'Ah, Brigitte? A wonderful squire.' Reinhardt rubbed the young woman's head, his hand nearly engulfing her. 'Although I'm not so certain about her spotting me when handling such weight! Hahahah!'

'I could move it off your flailing chest if I had to.'

'Hah! Flailing? Not likely! I would take the defeat with honour, and simply await the next phase in my life.'

The two individuals laughed, and Fareeha even snickered.

'Is the operation underway already?' Brigitte asked kindly.

'Oh? Is that today? Damn, that woman. Didn't _she_ just recover? Everyone gives me grief, yet Dr. Ziegler is permitted to treat her body so recklessly?'

' _She_ has regenerative abilities that _you_ lack, good sir.' Brigitte ensured.

'Hmph. The body can only endure so much, some more than others. Even with such enhancements, I wonder about her true limitations…'

Fareeha swallowed. He wasn't so far off in his scepticism. Only Fareeha and Zenyatta knew of Angela's fate, and the Egyptian was certain the doctor wanted to keep it that way for the time being.

'But she is a grown woman with a mind blessed by the Gods. I won't try and understand either or.'

'Right. You just keep pumping iron like a good boy.'

'Hahah! That I can do. But I still find it curious that we go so far for a woman who has killed so many. Brainwashing, I am told, but the resources and risks to reverse such damage? The goal, I suppose, is to have her fight with us? I am uncertain of any of this…'

'You're just bothered by the fact she hurt Ana. You've always had a soft spot for her, haven't you? Maybe a little crush?'

'T-that's ancient history! She's just a dear friend now. Thank the Gods she lives still, right, Fareeha?'

'Yes. I'm very thankful for that.' Fareeha enjoyed listening to Reinhardt and Brigitte chat. They complimented one another well. Is this what Lena saw between Angela and Fareeha? Did she feel this same warmness from the authentic, loving interactions that could literally be felt between the two souls that trusted one another without equal?

'So, you are here to train, Fareeha Amari? I hear you and my Brigitte have become quite close. Close enough for a little contest, wouldn't you say?'

'Rein, that's really not necessary.'

'Never you mind what's necessary or not! Humour an old man, won't you? I can see Ana's daughter is a woman who takes her body seriously. Show her what you're made of, my squire!'

Brigitte continued to squirm, but Fareeha lifted her hands with a shrug.

'I wouldn't mind the encouragement to push myself a little harder today.'

'Oh?' Brigitte grinned, unzipping her sweater and placing it on a bench nearby. She was wearing a loosely torn, black muscle-shirt with a yellow graphic that included a fork and knife, her arms just a little larger than Fareeha's. All that extra work crafting and welding had its benefits, obviously. Her family's emblem was tattooed to her left shoulder, and she stretched on the spot, her stomach briefly exposed to hint at the defined muscles underneath. 'Are we actually doing this, Fareeha?'

'Why not? I've always been a little curious.'

Seeing Brigitte's body a little more clearly, Fareeha took a moment to evaluate her own sexuality. Did she find this other woman attractive? Not really. Not exactly. Perhaps only slightly. She liked Brigitte quite a bit, but could not easily imagine kissing her or doing…anything with her, really. Was it _just_ Angela, then? Or was it the person Fareeha fell in love with? Did the gender not matter to her? Such thoughts were unlike her. Complexities were meant for intellects. She loved Angela. That's all she needed to know.

'Hahah! Friendly rivalry will always make you stronger than ever! This is a wonderful turn of events for you, Brigitte, for you could only dream of keeping up with me!' Reinhardt teased, and Brigitte continued stretching, her brow furrowing as she gave her master a look.

'I'm getting there, old man.'

'Maybe when I'm dead! Hahahah!'

'Why do you have to…?' Brigitte trailed off, seeming legitimately bothered, but snapping herself out of the funk before Reinhardt could comprehend the fact she had muttered anything at all.

'Right. I'll spot the both of you. Let's warm up with some of these silly machines, hm? Then we'll get into the real work with the deadlifts. Onward! To battle!'

* * *

Brigitte proved a formidable rival. Fareeha could outdo her only seldom, the powerful girl constantly exemplifying just how strong she had become under the watchful eye of the legendary Reinhardt. The man was guffawing proudly almost the whole time, paying Fareeha compliments, but clearly smitten with his squire's pure physical strength. At the end of the intense, hour-long "training" competition, both girls were utterly drenched, having to make use of the multitude of towels provided, and downing many cups of water from the dispenser.

"You're incredible." Brigitte had said. "I haven't met a lot of people that can keep up with me like that."

"You flatter me." Fareeha recalled being humbled at this point still. "Let's do this again, Brigitte. Pushing one another to the brink is a fine way to develop ourselves."

"You're on, Fareeha. Thanks!"

They shook hands, gripping one another warmly, and Fareeha knew her feelings for Brigitte had evolved to something beyond a mere friendship. A sisterly bond. A closeness Fareeha felt with few. She was thankful to have joined Overwatch to meet so many special individuals in such a short amount of time.

Standing in her shower, the sweat merging with the water cascading over her toned body, Fareeha pushed her hands through her wet hair and allowed the showerhead to pelt against her face, the pressure soft and pleasant. She lathered herself with soap, and wondered about her lady. The day wasn't progressing as quickly as she would like. She wanted to know Angela was okay. She wanted to hold the other woman again. She wanted to simply speak with her about little things that used to seem like a hinderance. Once she was done cleaning herself, Fareeha would likely try and stay in the general vicinity of Angela's lab. She wanted to be present the moment Angela was done. She wanted to treat her to something special. Perhaps a snack. Or a drink. Or a massage. Anything. For what Angela was accomplishing in this moment, she deserved the world.

Fareeha turned the shower off and remained still. Her heart was swallowed by anxiety, and she pushed the fear back. Ignoring Angela's physical state wasn't the answer, but it was all she could think to do for now. If anyone could help the genius doctor, it was Angela herself. Surely, she could think of a way to prolong her sacrificed life. Surely…

Fareeha wrapped herself in a towel after drying off a moderate amount. She stepped out of the little washroom, her new living situation upgraded due to her increase in rank, and looked about the open space. Angela had a slightly larger apartment, which made sense, but it brought Fareeha enough pride to know she had earned this through her own hard work. Still, it felt empty, and Fareeha considered what it would be like to have Angela stay with her, perhaps, or vice-versa. She had been sleeping in Angela's bed for the last little while anyway. It was somewhat of a waste to take up two sectors, wasn't it?

Fareeha found herself smiling in the mirror goofily. She shook the silly expression away, but felt tugs at the corners of her mouth regardless.

A pleasant chime sounded, and Fareeha glanced to her door.

'Yes?' She pressed the intercom.

"It's me." The reply came swiftly, and Fareeha's heart jumped. Her mother. They hadn't spoken much since their last pivotal interaction. That had been fine with Fareeha. She needed time, to be honest. However, she agreed enough of it had passed, and her mother was correct to initiate a follow-up discussion of some form.

Without a word, Fareeha opened her door, and Ana stepped in, taking off her mask and surveying the area with a keen eye.

'Not bad.' She remarked with confidence. 'You've done well for yourself, Fareeha. I am very impressed.'

'Thank-you, mother.' Fareeha went to her little kitchen, still not having organized everything fully yet due to her general absence from the place. 'Did you want a tea or anything?'

'I'm fine, really. I just felt the need to check in with you. Quite a bit has happened, and I wish I was around more to support you, but my skills are ever needed, and the crisis is escalating rapidly. The rate is uncanny, and the war is on the brink of being revived. This is all too familiar, but Talon's presence, and whomever is backing them, is utterly obvious, which makes our job that much more difficult.' Ana took a seat on Fareeha's perfectly new couch, her white hair falling about her face tiredly. 'Part of me wishes you hadn't done so well for yourself. Your skills will be pushed to their limit, which means you will always be at risk. This isn't the life I wanted for you.'

'But it's the life _I_ wanted, mother. I am beyond happy I can help the cause and fight alongside everyone here. It was always my dream.' Fareeha met her mom's eye, locking into it passionately. 'It's in my blood. I didn't have a choice, truthfully.'

'You could've taken after your father, you know?' Ana smirked, but the mention of the man brought a tsunami of varying emotions Fareeha didn't have the energy for.

'Perhaps…'

Ana noted the change in tone, and adjusted the conversation accordingly.

'In any case, I came to discuss something else with you, if we're being honest.'

'I would prefer that.' Fareeha answered sharply.

'I have heard some things regarding your and Angela's relationship.' Ana started, and Fareeha's face felt hot instantly. She wondered what her mother's reaction would be. It didn't change anything, at the end of the day, but Ana's approval wasn't precisely undervalued either. 'It seems common knowledge to some in the upper ranks. Winston and Jack appeared rather elusive when I dug around more. Therefore, I thought it best I come to the source.'

Fareeha hesitated for but a moment, yet puffed her chest and spoke aloud with little more reservation.

'Angela and I are dating, yes.

Ana generally had an impressive poker face, her teasing grin capable of lowering many a guard. But she recoiled physically, blinking with brief confusion prior to steadying her position and voice.

'Is that a fact?'

'It is.' Fareeha recalled the moment she first saw Angela, and shook her head. 'I didn't stand a chance, mother.'

'She _is_ charming in her own way, but…I had no idea, Fareeha.' Ana sighed quietly. 'You showed no signs of deviation growing up. Excuse me.' The older woman cleared her throat. 'That's not politically correct, is it? I just…didn't imagine it, I suppose.'

'Nor did I. But it is an irrefutable fact.' Fareeha held strong, the hidden disapproval Ana attempted to muffle obvious enough even to her daughter. 'I love her. She has told me she feels the same way.'

'Really?'

'Yes.' Fareeha nodded firmly. 'I intend to spend as much of my life with her as possible.'

'The relationship is still young.' Ana chuckled.

'True. But I can feel it. She and I…we just fit. It's difficult to explain. I thought the notion of a soulmate to be completely ridiculous, but her coming into my life changed that perception promptly.'

'A soulmate, you say?' Fareeha's mother lifted a brow, her eye twinkling.

'I know. It still _is_ silly.' Fareeha giggled. 'But it's how I feel. It's the first time I've _ever_ felt this way. It was confusing for me, too, mother, but I ask that you accept it. I know where I belong, and it is by that woman's side until I can be there no longer.'

Ana nodded slowly, but breathed out in a contemplative way.

'I suspect it is still the "honeymoon" phase, but it shall be interesting to see where it takes you. Dr. Ziegler has always baffled me with her approach to relationships. Her intense disinterest in them broke many a young man's heart in her youth…and even now, I imagine. To think she was like Lena all this time.'

'I think there's a difference.'

'Oh? How so?'

'I…am not sure.'

'Hm.'

Fareeha waited for her mother to say more, for she could tell she wished to, and when the silence held too long, the legendary woman voiced her hesitant thoughts.

'These days, it's to my understanding two woman are more than capable of conceiving a child – '

'No, mother. I am not discussing that.'

'Humour me, Fareeha! Humour this poor old woman!'

The two ladies laughed, shoving at one another.

'I will not! As you said, the relationship is still young.'

'Would _you_ carry the child, or would _she_?'

'Mother!'

'I want a grandchild. Is that so much to ask?'

'It just might be. Was it simple raising me?'

'…I had an extended family's help.'

Fareeha glanced around, smiling broadly.

'That _is_ true, isn't it?'

Ana leaned back, sighing again and again.

'Times have changed a great deal. Women loving women. Men loving men. Humans loving omnics. Is this progression, or boredom? It is hard to say.'

'I don't think that's true.' Fareeha put her arm around Ana, bringing her in closely in a rare moment of bold affection for the family member she thought lost who was also accepting the slight twist in her daughter's life fairly well, all things considered. 'I think it's an aspect of freedom that should be embraced and never shunned.'

Ana nodded with a calmness about her.

'You make me very proud, Fareeha.' She said suddenly, and Fareeha's cheeks burned immediately.

'T-thank-you.'

'You do. You truly do. A small wonder Angela fell for you. You've always been a catch. I knew it the moment you began maturing. Smart. Strong. But most of all, so incredibly kind and considerate.'

'I…come from good stock.'

'Go on.' Ana laughed.

'I will, mother, because it is not a lie. Why do you think I grew up in such a way?'

'Luck?'

'Watching you.'

'Even when I abandoned you?'

Fareeha faltered momentarily, but gripped her mother tightly.

'That time only made me stronger. Yes, resentment will always be there, but I was given a choice then, and I became a better person through such a trial. I met Angela because of choices I made after thinking I had lost you forever. My life brought me here, to the present. I am in Overwatch. I have ascended to a respectable rank. You are here beside me. I know what love is at last. Yes, mother, even when you abandoned me, because I have been molded from all experiences.'

Ana wiped her eye, her mouth tightening.

'To make this old soldier cry…you are a troublesome child.'

Fareeha rubbed her mother's arm.

'I don't doubt that either. Headstrong and passionate. Another family trait.'

'Heh. Certainly. Certainly, my wonderful daughter.'


	55. LV: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

Hope. It was a word she had long forgotten. Surrounded by hate and death, hope was but a fragment of a dream she used to know.

Yet, hope found a face in the enemy. Hope had short brown hair. Hope housed subtle freckled cheeks. Hope was persistent. Hope didn't give up when she did.

Was it finally time to hope again?

* * *

Widow's eyes opened to white. Her head felt numb. Her arms were heavy. This wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. She saw various members of Overwatch's medical team. At the head of them was one Doctor Angela Ziegler. She was a mess. Her hair was utterly dishevelled, and red blotches surrounded her eyes.

'Good evening…' Angela breathed shakily. She paused, swallowing slowly, the individuals behind her reaching into their lab coats. 'I'm so sorry…'

Widow's body tensed, and her limbs flinched into restraints, nearly bending the metal that held her in place. She heard her voice grunt in her throat, and her teeth cracked under the stress.

Angela Ziegler. Primary target for assassination. Kill on sight. Linchpin to Overwatch's health and safety sector. Kill. Kill. Kill. A single death would change everything.

A pinch to her neck, and it was over.

Hope was but a fragment once more.

* * *

It wasn't as bright when she came to again. The lab's lights had been dimmed. It was deep into the night. She could tell. She knew instinctively. The rage of not being able to take out Angela Ziegler remained. Failure. She would be punished. Fine. So long as she was allowed to kill again.

'Heya, Luv.'

A pulse wave of lightness coursed through Widow's veins, and her eyes immediately filled with water, as if her entirety was pumped full of a salve.

'Tracer…' She muttered angrily, but then softened, whimpering as she uttered the next word. 'Lena…'

'Hi, Beautiful. Had a rough go of it, huh?' She said quietly, and Widow sniffed, needing to wipe her eyes but unable to.

'She failed…didn't she?' Widow asked helplessly.

'For now.' Lena responded, but even she couldn't fill the words with her usual optimism.

'…What happened?'

'Complications, I guess? Ange was pretty upset. I don't get to see her with a mean face very often, but she went to see Moira.' Lena grinned distantly. 'She said something about it being like disturbing a bee's nest, you know? Thought she knew what was what, but when she started digging…bees.'

Widow could only groan in dismay. Naturally, it could never be so easy. Moira was a madwoman. She invested so much time and effort into warping Amelie Lacroix into Widowmaker. She surely foresaw something akin to this turn of events and set up the appropriate safeguards as if to taunt her eternal rival.

'I wanted to kill her.' Widow admitted, shocked with how much her chest hurt at the claim.

'I know, Luv. She gave you some medicine. You should be doin' okay now.'

'It's losing its effectiveness.'

'Yeah…'

'Which is why I'm restrained once more.'

'Yeah…'

'What is the official word?'

'Official?' Lena shrugged. 'Jack doesn't want to waste any more time on this. There's too much going on in the world. All hands on deck and such. I got a mission lined up and everything. God Programs popping up all over the map. Talon really starting to make some moves. Something bigger lurking in the shadows. The piece of the U.N. supporting us is downright terrified of what's coming. It's not looking good, Luv. Not at all…'

'And here I lay, useless to the cause.'

Lena moved next to Widow, hastily unlocking her restraints and touching her face, the warmth of her skin so painful Widow flinched away.

'Ange _did_ manage to do somethin' for you, Luv. You know that shock collar thing? She had Winston make it into a microchip and got it into you. Somewhere around here.' Lena touched behind Widow's right ear, and although Widow attempted to flick her head away again, Lena held her, looking into her eyes with that same hopeful gaze that had transfixed Widow's soul with the singular question of "why?".

'So, if your brain starts making you do something nasty, I guess it understands to give you enough of a jolt to hopefully get you back on track. Neat, huh?'

'Another temporary solution.'

'Better than nothing, innit?'

'Perhaps…' Widow noted the tentativeness in Lena's voice as the shock of her current circumstances waned. Was it just her imagination? 'I am no better or worse than before, I suppose.'

'I got permission to be responsible for you, at least. Ange convinced Jack that you could still be used on certain missions until a permanent solution can be found.'

Widow blinked.

'She…wishes to continue her work on me?'

'Uh, yeah? Ange takes this kinda thing super seriously. Moira beat her. She might not seem like the type, but girl's got a whole bunch of pride. She ain't gonna take this lying down. She's gonna use her coupla days off to dig into the data and clear her head. When she gets back from Busan, she wants to give it another whirl.'

'I-I see…' Widow knew it was foolish to smile even partially, but she couldn't help it. Hope. Hope. Hope manifested anew in this caring young woman before her and those who supported her selfless wishes.

'I gotta head out on that mission in the next couple days though, Luv. You're allowed to come, but I totally get it if you can't. I've already gotten way too much time off. Overwatch needs its big players on the field. We gotta shut down the God Programs like before, but this time without the U.N.'s full support and Talon's heavy presence. It's gonna be rough.'

Why did this tone bother Widow so? Was it the medicine corrupting her perspective? No. She knew Lena well enough by this point to tell something was off. Lena relaxed around Widow. It was something she took a shameful amount of pride in.

'Did something happen while I was out?' Widow ventured, and Lena went still, her eyes focussed on the shimmering floor in the dim light.

'Heh. We're at that point, huh?'

'Pardon?'

'The point when you can tell I'm hiding stuff.'

'Oh. Perhaps…' Widow swallowed sharply, her brain hurting, and the aching where she had been penetrated for the procedure prominent.

'I can't lie to you, Beautiful. I won't lie to you. You don't deserve that.'

' _Much appreciated._ ' Widow wasn't sure she meant it.

'…Emily sent me a text. The night we…kinda did stuff, she said she wanted to talk.'

Widow's pulse stopped altogether for a split second, but then everything resumed as normally as it could. She wasn't upset. She wasn't.

'Have you spoken with her yet?'

'Nah. I just told her I was crazy busy – which is true – so, yeah, that's on hold.'

'But you are torn because of your supposed "feelings" for me?' Widow felt the anger building now. Why was she becoming so furious? It wasn't simply jealousy. It couldn't be. She cared for Lena, admittedly, but she hardly "loved" her in any capacity.

'Well, yeah.'

'Spare me.' Widow snapped, feeling guilty for the reaction based on Lena's confused stare but incapable of taking it back. 'We are _nothing_. Acquaintances at best.'

'I'm gonna chalk that up to the drugs and post-operation talking.' Lena's face construed.

'Don't. I've made it clear since the beginning. Nothing has changed.'

'Oh?' Lena's eye twitched angrily. 'So, getting off from me sexing you up didn't mean a thing, did it? Nothing at all!?'

'It was a means of showing my thanks. You deserved that much.'

'Hell no, Luv!' Lena stood up now, a rare showing of unfiltered rage filling her normally charming features. ' _You'd_ be the one servicing _me_ if that was how it was happening!'

Widow grounded her teeth together, rising from her bed abruptly as well now.

'You still fixate on such things? So be it!' And Widow lost herself in the pain of it all. She grabbed Lena's wrists and threw her to the ground, a small "yip" escaping the Brit's throat as she was pinned, her loose top torn apart and Widow gripping between her legs roughly, pinching into her womanhood and pushing the pant material deep into the younger girl.

'A-Amelie…!' Lena gasped, and Widow muffled her voice with her other hand, shoving her fingers into her throat and choking her as she ripped her pants and underwear down to her knees, kneading her swollen bud and allowing the fluid from the agent to soak her palm.

'Surely you can take a rather bountiful load, hm? What with all your _experience_!' Widow sneered, biting Lena's right breast and pushing three of her fingers inside the confines of Lena's warmth with more effort than expected.

A sharp pain bit threw Widow's hand suppressing Lena's voice, and another source of injury struck her cheek before a final blitz of electricity practically immobilized Widow, rendering her instantly motionless and dazed.

'What the bloody hell!?' Lena snivelled, backing away on the floor and pulling her clothes into some form of reasonable sense. 'Jesus…' She wiped her reddened eyes, and Widow's mouth hung open, dismay and fear encapsulating her.

'I…' Widow began, mortified as the understanding of what she had just attempted hit her harder than anything she could remember in recent time.

'Not okay, Luv…' Lena muttered, full of hurt. 'Bloody…not okay…'

Widow shook her head, but then nodded slowly, praying Lena wouldn't leave her then. Praying against prayer she wouldn't be alone again.

A heavy silence filled the room, and Athena dinged over the speakers, filling the desolate nothingness.

"Widowmaker recently suppressed in current location. Report?"

Lena steadied her breaths, shuffling into what was left of her shirt.

'Tracer here. Everything's fine. Widowmaker is contained. Thanks.'

"Hints of apprehension identified in agent Tracer's recorded regularly dictated intonation. Report?"

'Nothing, Luv. Tell Winston it's all good.'

"…Affirmative."

Only the soft hums of the remaining machines in the room remained, and Widow found herself waiting to see what Lena would do. She had every right to leave her. Widow almost wished she would. Anything and anyone who got close to her could only be hurt. The glimmer of hope at having a regular life had been effectively snuffed the moment Widow awoke and could feel the corruption in her mind still. The poison that drove her to kill without reservation. The chaos that forced her hands around her husband's neck. The numbness that allowed her to watch passively as her child was denied a chance at life.

'I'm…sorry…' Widow gasped shakily, gripping at her arms, wanting to break skin and feel her own blood dripping upon her body. She felt so trapped. So lost. So angry and scared at the same time. She pushed when she wanted to pull. She screamed when she wanted to whisper. She killed when she wanted to love.

Lena's hands were around her within half a second of her apology. It's as though she blinked to Widow it happened so quickly. And this only made Widow cry harder and louder. She held onto Lena and sobbed into her, the rush of filtered emotions like a broken dam barely restraining that which it was meant to contain.

For once, Lena didn't say a thing. She simply held Widow and let her broken psyche unleash its sorrow. Widow hated being so vulnerable, and yet, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else in that moment…not even Gerard.

* * *

Eichenwalde. The destination of her next mission. She was accompanying only three other agents on this rather high-priority search and destroy mission. Two were Grandmasters. One was Diamond. The last – Widowmaker herself – wasn't officially ranked. Tracer, Reinhardt, and Brigitte. A rather powerful group; even Widowmaker could identify as much. If she had been assigned to take any of them out while still working for Talon, it would have been considered one of the most difficult undertakings in her career. There was a reason few agents in Talon wished to take the two Grandmasters on at any given time. There was a reason Reinhardt, even at his incredible age, was considered the lion of any battlefield he waged war on. He was the king. The living embodiment of courage and chivalry. And the king now had a cub, who had readily demonstrated she wasn't resting on the laurels of her father or master's accomplishments. She had proven herself in the most recent battle, and would only get stronger with every experience and Reinhardt's guidance. Tracer had shown time and time again she wasn't just a big mouth. Widow knew very personally just how strong and resourceful she was. She had taken a crippling experience and harnessed it as her own power; power that had few rivals. Widow had dealt with such power on numerous occasions and could only barely scrape by because of her own inhuman modifications. Any normal agent would be helpless.

Widow adjusted her skin-tight outfit and looked in the mirror. It felt and looked familiar enough. Even her gauntlet equipped with a retractable grappling hook was near identical to what she once had. Lena evidently asked for her gear to be as close to her original Talon outfit as possible while adding a flair of Overwatch's aesthetic. She clicked her multi-angled visor into place, tracking numerous perspectives simultaneously in her changing area; a task that would be impossible for any normal human's brain.

'Almost ready, Luv?' Lena asked from outside the room; her room. Widow didn't deserve a space of her own yet. She wasn't capable of something as rudimentary as that, still. The fact she was allowed on a mission was only due to Lena's own encouragement and the fact Angela was so skilled through the operation that hardly any recovery time was needed. Still, Widow knew something was off about her inner workings. Lena described it as disturbing a bee's hive. While the swarm had certainly settled, Widow understood her corrupted workings well enough to comprehend that a piece of herself had been dislodged, and it made her erratic even with the help of Angela's new restricting remedy she had hastily concocted before flying out to Busan for a deserved break.

She had assaulted Lena again. That was proof enough she was cracking anew.

Lena and Widow's relationship had shifted alongside her altered behaviour. There was a space between them that hadn't existed before; even when they were trying to "kill" one another. Indeed, Lena was much more professional and factual, providing Widow air she didn't ask for, but knew she could benefit from. The concept of acting on any form of sexual desire evaporated the night Widow attacked Lena. It was a loss of control Widow deeply regretted even when her mind attempted to glorify the memory. It was an unnatural loss of character Widow stored alongside the murder of her husband, and that frightened her.

'Yes…' Widow answered, opening the door and stepping out to see Lena in her "Tracer" gear. The default outfit she equipped that the world knew. The superhero costume she deserved.

'How are you feeling? Any weird urges?'

'Because of my clothes?'

'Yeah. I figured they'd be the most comfortable, but we kinda worried you might get closer to Widowmaker because of them, you know?'

'A fair assessment.' Widow agreed. 'At this moment, all seems to be well.'

'Great!'

A pause. A heavy, painful silence Widow didn't know she could hate so. She wanted to ask if Lena had contacted Emily. She couldn't tell. The need to have an answer perpetually grew, and Widow shook her head in annoyance.

'Anyway, we got a good team going on this mission, but I gotta tell ya, Rein is still kinda butt hurt about the whole Ana thing. If he's acting a little cold, that's why. Brigitte will keep him in line, I'm sure, but that's the deal, alrighty?'

Widow barely registered what Lena was saying. She couldn't turn away from her lips. They were producing words that sounded like everything was fine, but Widow could distinctly feel the damage done, and she couldn't determine a way to mend it.

So, she would destroy it completely.

'Did you speak with Emily?'

Lena blinked, her facial features twitching some. She hesitated to answer, and that was as good as any reply. But those agonizing words returned, manifesting into daggers that Lena couldn't know she flung without regard.

'Last night. Thought I better before the mission. Black omnic. God Program. The works. It's a doozy. Just wanted to clear some things up.'

'…Good.' Widow sneered. 'You're better with her.'

'That's not what happened, Luv. Really.'

She was lying. Widow could tell that much. That was the end of it. Widow wouldn't punish herself further. The urge to hold Lena and throttle her neck fought for supremacy in her mind. Thus, she pushed past the Overwatch agent even with the knowledge she wasn't quite allowed to officially be on her own without surveillance in the form of Lena Oxton, her saviour and captor.


	56. LVI: Mercy

Mercy

She wanted to cancel the trip. The desire to travel to Busan for a "vacation" – even with Fareeha at her side – seemed utterly impossible in the face of such failure. She reviewed the reports outlining the exact details of the operation on Widowmaker over and over, and then had approached Moira in contained hysteria.

"You monster." She had hissed, and Moira's eyes were more alive than Angela could ever remember.

"A pot calling the kettle black, I see? How amusing. Do expound upon this riveting statement, for your guards are not for conversation, and I'm rather bored here, I'll admit."

"Why!? For what purpose!?"

"Because I could, Dr. Ziegler." Her snakelike smile completed its journey across her thin face then. "And to witness this precise moment."

Angela healed the wounded. Angela mended the broken. She even revived the fallen. But in that instance of her life, she lost all reasoning and misplaced her promise. She struck Moira as hard as her physically incapable self could, snapping the woman's head to the side as she laughed manically, arms reaching around Angela and pulling her back.

"Perhaps your 'partner' would have been a better choice for inflicting injury upon a helpless captive, Dr. Ziegler? Do attempt to at least gain _some_ benefit in choosing such a dead-end path for your precious genepool, yes? It's the least you can do for your precious sister."

Angela lay her head on her desk at the recollection. She had screamed, then. She had even struggled, wanting to harm Moira further. Rumours about her outburst circulated quickly, and even Jack had questioned her composure.

That sealed the vacation. Angela agreed to go, because she knew it was for the best. She arose from her office and made her way to the transportation wing. She had claimed to need a moment to straighten up her space just prior to departing. Truthfully, she needed privacy. She was embarrassed. She was frustrated. She was undeniably contemplative because of her and Moira's brief but intensely meaningful exchange.

Fareeha loaded the bags into their private transport vehicle. She would be flying, of course, their arrival welcomed by the Korean government. There was mention of Angela appearing in numerous medical shows, but Overwatch was quick to snuff any form of publicity, and an agreement of subtlety was reached with funds being transferred, surely.

It was chilly in the early mornings sometimes, and Angela was wearing a large blue sweater, feeling concealed enough as she noted the stares of agents. She had always been a celebrity of sorts. Now, she was even more so, because the fictional tabloids surrounding any and all of the Grandmasters had something rather intriguing to relay to ears willing to listen; and Angela, especially with her progressively well-known relationship with Fareeha, was very interesting as of late.

'Good morning, my lady.' Fareeha smiled, and while part of Angela squirmed uncomfortably, more of her welcomed the second greeting from the woman (the first, of course, being when they initially awoke, still sharing a bed nightly).

'Good morning.' She answered back shyly, conscious of the few eyes that were present. Ana, in particular, was seeing her daughter and Angela off, with Winston and Torbjorn early risers as well. A few recognizable but not overly noteworthy agents did some system checks on the plane, but otherwise, Overwatch remained busy or asleep for now.

'No work.' Ana shook her finger at Angela, and the doctor smiled distantly, not able to read the other woman because of her token mask.

'No work.' She repeated.

'Fareeha? Please reinforce this.' Ana went on.

'I will. I promise.'

Ana placed her hands on Angela's shoulders, and Jack had made his way to the loading bay by this point.

'I am happy it's you. Unsure, at first, of course, but out of many and all, quite happy it's you.'

Angela knew what she was referring to, and she glanced to Fareeha herself, the beautiful young woman in a black sleeveless top, her stressed jeans allowing slits of dark skin to peak through. Her dog tag necklace dangled about in the spots of sun, and Angela's heart skipped a beat all over again, attempting to shake Moira from memory. Her toned muscles flexed as they completed the final task of loading the last bag of luggage, and she clapped her hands together, adjusting her shades and looking too attractive for her own good.

'I'm sorry…' Angela heard herself saying suddenly, and her eyes were burning.

'Pardon? Sorry? Whatever for?' Ana was, understandably, bewildered. Angela hardly understood why she said it herself, and pulled her sweater tighter around her body.

'I'm a doctor…' Angela breathed out, eyeing Jack as he drew closer but needing to say this to Ana – to anyone that might understand. 'I understand how unnatural and…selfish I'm being.'

'Everything okay?' Jack's gruff voice appeared, but in a movement faster than a woman of her age should have been capable of, Ana raised a hand and, somewhat roughly, pulled Angela aside, away from everyone. If it weren't for her being one of the top five Grandmasters in Overwatch, it may have warranted question, but only Fareeha made a sound of perplexity prior to Angela finding herself in a small room with one of the best snipers in the world.

'If you're having doubts, you tell her now and be done with it.' Ana shouted in a whisper, which made it more terrifying. She snapped her mask off, her lines deep and expression beyond serious.

'It's hardly so simple – ' Angela started, and her right cheek stun a second later. Moira had gotten off easy, for Angela didn't have much strength to offer. Ana, on the other hand? Years of training. Years of experience. Years of power. A mother. It hurt, but the seething aftermath wasn't so terrible.

'It _is_ "so simple".' Ana snapped, her eye wide with fury and impatience. 'Do you love her?'

'I…I do…Truly…' Angela whimpered.

'Yes. You do. I can see it clear as day. My lord you love her. It's frightening the love the both of you share. It makes me question everything I thought I understood about the word.'

'She's…brilliant…' Angela went on, her chest hurting.

'She is that. Strong, too. Beautiful even, if I don't say so myself.'

'So beautiful…' Angela repeated, sniffling.

'Then _do_ tell me what is not so simple, hm? Please.'

Angela shook her head, but then nodded, meeting Ana's eye again.

'I'm overthinking it.' She admitted.

'A curse and a blessing, your mind.' Ana grinned. 'You love her. She loves you. End of discussion. We live in a world that accepts such things. Begrudgingly at times, and perhaps forevermore, but certainly more progressive than the days of old. Of the days not so far gone. Embrace the love you have found, for some search their entire lives and never feel such truth. It is the gift of being human. It is the gift of having a mind that can reason and evolve. It is your gift. You should know this more than any other.'

Angela blinked, taking in Ana's words and pitting them against Moira's. It wasn't a contest. She wasn't perfectly free from hesitation, but her life made more sense again. Above anything else, Gloria wanted Angela to be happy. She had to remember that beyond her self-inflicted punishments.

'I have your blessing then, Ana?' Angela asked with a smirk, comfort in her intonation at last.

'Does one of the brightest minds in the world have this old soldier's blessing?' Ana chuckled. 'Any parent would be honoured, but I'm even more so because I _know_ you, Angela. I've seen you work. I've seen your dedication. You've always impressed me.' The woman paused, touching Angela's arm and giving it a light, affectionate squeeze. 'Take care of my daughter, Ms. Ziegler. Despite how I may have acted, she is so very, very precious to me.'

'To us both.' Angela affirmed, and Ana smiled broadly, her eye shimmering with emotion.

* * *

'I started reading one of your books.' Fareeha began saying about halfway through the long ride to Busan. Angela had found some peace, and was glad she could simply enjoy being with this charming woman again. She disliked how easily Moira had jarred her, but it was a necessary misstep, for it was one she had averted her eyes from on many occasions, assuming it would just disappear given enough time.

'Oh?' Angela almost laughed. 'Highly enrapturing material, I must say. Easily consumable by the average citizen. Why, I do believe they were bestsellers, every one of them.'

'Were they?' Fareeha tipped her head a touch.

'Hardly. Beneficial to the medical world, without a doubt, but nothing more than doctoral rambling those in my field would gain benefit from. I was commissioned to basically write down my theories and progress in nanotechnology and what I anticipate the future of biological integration with said technology would produce. I provided mountains of data to the editor, and they compiled it into something tangible that made some sense. I personally haven't really done more than flip through the first couple of volumes with minor interest.'

'Because you aren't vain.' Fareeha grinned.

'Because I have better things to do, yes.' Angela paused, nibbling on her lower lip just a little before pressing the conversation lightly. 'However, I _am_ interested to hear your thoughts, Fareeha Amari.'

Fareeha cleared her throat, adjusting her hold on the aircraft's control.

'Well, as you said, it is quite…dense.'

'Hahah! A kind way of putting it!' Angela laughed, fixated on the lovely girl's profile.

'But I give the editor credit, because I could still hear your voice through all the jargon. Waiting for the next word or phrase that is so distinctly yours keeps me very invested. I even find I'm learning something here and there, although most of it goes over my head, unfortunately.'

'To your credit, what I have to say is rather difficult to comprehend for most.'

'But I'll likely stick with it. It's like having a piece of you with me when I go on missions. I like the notion.'

'Surely you receive funny looks from those around you.'

'Winston thought it was impressive, but I quickly let him know I grasped barely a tenth of what I read. Still, he seemed excited.'

Angela's cheeks hurt, and she relaxed the smile that had been firmly planted over her visage.

'My chat with Moira went poorly.' Angela stated quite clearly suddenly. Fareeha, being the sweet, considerate soul that she was, hadn't pried about the pivotal moment despite the rumours that began to circulate. Thus, Angela would provide her with the details in full.

'So it seems. It weighed heavily on you.'

'I appreciate the space you gave me, Fareeha.'

'I know what you're like by this point.'

'Hahah! Do you?'

'I do.'

Angela's chest flipped, and she knew the warmth that came from Fareeha's clear claim of intimate connection no other could hope to fathom.

'Well, I quite lost my temper with her.'

'A rare sight I wouldn't have minded seeing had I not been preparing dinner for you that night.'

'It was poor timing, and I wasn't of the right mind. Honestly, I'm thankful you didn't observe my immature outburst.'

'Hm.' Fareeha uttered with doubt.

'I couldn't cure Widowmaker; not yet, in any case. That in and of itself was vexing, for Moira essentially beat me.'

'That would be frustrating.'

'It was. The moment I began prying too deeply into Widowmaker's brain, I noticed a trail of red flags that indicated a fatal chain reaction should I have pushed further. In a way you might understand, it was as though I were standing before a field littered with landmines, and setting off one would, consequently, destroy them all. My assistants still don't believe me, I suspect, for they nearly insisted I went forward with the procedure. However, I had the final word, and it was obvious I needed more time to prepare for such an operation.'

'Because of your talent, you saved that woman's life.'

'I suppose, but I treaded on thin ice, and dislodged a piece of her mind in the process. It was sheer luck that I did so, for it revealed the path of destruction in her neural makeup that most would likely have missed. Moira nearly had _me_ fooled, the madwoman.'

'She certainly appears to be that.'

'But her seemingly getting the best of me wasn't what upset me the most during our interaction.'

'No?'

'I was angry, naturally. I was embarrassed even, I'll admit. But when I struck her – '

'You hit her?'

'I-I did.'

'Hahah! Wow! Really?'

'Is it so unbelievable?'

'It is!' Fareeha went on laughing, and Angela blushed. 'I thought that was the story being warped, but you actually hit our prisoner? Your rank saves your actions, I'm sure.'

'Hush! I'm allowed a moment of weakness!'

'It's adorable. Did it seem to hurt?'

'Enough about that!'

'Ah. So, it didn't. Maybe I should teach you how to throw a punch. It's all about the hips.'

'Fareeha Amari! Do stop teasing me!'

Fareeha turned and grinned attractively, pushing Angela's blush even deeper into her cheeks. How handsome she was, even when acting a little devilish.

'In any case, and as I was saying, I was most offended when she made a comment about our relationship and…and Gloria.'

'What?' Fareeha's face hardened, and Angela was at the mercy of such obvious chivalric fury.

'Yes. She essentially claimed Gloria would be mystified and, perhaps, even upset with my choice of partner, especially in relation to the way our current commitment to one another suggests a stop in my ability to carry on the Ziegler genepool.'

The hum of the aircraft's engine was all that could be heard for some time before Fareeha finally responded.

'How did she know about Gloria? You've hardly told a soul.'

'Talon's hacker, Sombra, more than likely. Her abilities are quite inhuman, and gathering such data would be nothing for her, I'm certain.'

'And she used such knowledge against you? To think I let this woman live.'

'You did the right thing, Fareeha. Yes, I was taken aback by the comment, but your mother helped me through the foolish doubt, and I am fine.'

'Mm. So, that's what you both were speaking about.'

'Yes…'

'Still,' Fareeha shook her head, her bottom lip upturned a bit. 'I may need to pay Moira a visit.'

'Don't, Fareeha.'

'Just for a word.'

'She would antagonize you until it became more.'

'Then I would gladly grant her that which she deserves.'

'Do not jeopardize your rank on my account.'

'I would jeopardize anything on your account, Angela.' Fareeha said this nearly overlapping Angela, and her heart skipped, mouth hanging open and eyes burning again and again.

'…While I do appreciate such talk, understand she is hardly worth the time. Truly.'

'So be it.' Fareeha let it rest at that, taking a moment to consider an idea further, it would seem. 'My…mother was also concerned about a potential lack of grandchildren.' She spoke slowly, almost too quietly, and Angela tried not to giggle, knowing how difficult such a subject likely was for the woman. 'Did she mention such a thing to you?'

'She did not.'

'I-I see.'

'Why? Whatever do you make of the topic?'

'Me!?' Fareeha laughed nervously. 'It's…it's a little ridiculous, isn't it?'

Angela took a small moment to herself, looking to Fareeha and then refocussing on the outside, clouds all around and a brilliant blue sky filtered between the white shapes. It was far too early for even humoured thoughts, but…

'I don't think it is, Fareeha Amari. Not completely ridiculous anyway.'

* * *

Even with a fairly fast aircraft, it was dark by the time Fareeha was flying atop Busan, the second largest city in South Korea next to Seoul, which had been ravaged by the first Omnic Crisis. Busan, it seemed, had recovered relatively well, with lights and life everywhere, its reputation of being a lively place to live clear simply upon scouting it from afar. Angela had only been to the city once, and it was a fairly quick stop for a brief lecture regarding her research. Building-sized advertisements flickered before Fareeha and Angela as their craft navigated toward their landing site, pictures of various celebrities, health products, and the newest technology on full display for hungry consumers. One such girl caught Angela's eye, her cute face and almost sassy persona while she held what looked like some form of drink clearly meant to charm her audience into loving her product.

'What do you think of her?' Angela indicated the young woman, pointing when she appeared again throughout the circulating ads.

'Hm? What do you mean?'

'Is she attractive to you?'

'Mm. Not really.' Fareeha gave a quick shake of her head.

'Is that a fact? She's undeniably cute, isn't she? DVa. I recognize the name, as a matter of fact. I believe she's on a list for potential recruits for Overwatch.'

'Her?'

'Yes. If I recall correctly, she pilots something akin to a miniature robot. A mech, or what have you. She's one of the best defenders of Busan, and has always refused Overwatch's invitations. Rather dedicated to her city, it seems.'

'Huh. Interesting.'

Angela smirked.

'You don't find her even a little cute?'

'Not especially. Looks like a handful.'

Angela laughed, covering her mouth as she did so, loving how blunt Fareeha could be.

'She could very well be that, but she's also heralded as the hero of this city. I believe one of her more recent encounters with the omnic that frequently attacks the country elevated her to undeniable stardom.'

'Ah. So, she's part of the elite force that deals with the kaiju omnic, then?'

'Heheh. You know your stuff, Fareeha. Indeed, the looming force that continues to terrorize this sector of the world remains unfinished business for Overwatch.'

'Thanks for the vacation, Jack…' Fareeha rolled her eyes.

'It attacks rather infrequently, from what I understand, although the most recent event surrounding DVa does cause concern.' Angela cupped her chin thoughtfully, feeling the plane dropping its altitude smoothly. 'You brought your armour, did you not?'

'Of course. Knowing our luck, I would never leave without it.'

'Well, excuse me for being precious cargo.'

'Hahah! You are that.' Fareeha winked, causing Angela's toes to curl.

Angela and Fareeha landed smoothly and were accepted through Korean customs without any problems whatsoever. Their aircraft was stowed safely away, and they were driven to their hotel directly beside the now world-famous Haeundae Beach. The lights of the city were truly something else, and the sheer volume of people was as overwhelming as ever, navigating the streets demanding a particular level of patience and skill, both of which their current driver had.

'Quite incredible how well this city has recovered. Reports state it suffered a vast amount of destruction during the first Omnic Crisis.' Fareeha commented, the multi-coloured lights reflecting off her skin pleasingly as she gazed out the window with a certain amount of awe.

'These people are proud and resilient, I have learned. Many places in the world look to their work ethic and ability to overcome obstacles in half the amount of time most would. _Isn't that true?_ ' Angela asked in Korean, catching the driver's eye in the mirror while he parked the vehicle at the entrance to yet another lavish hotel that nearly touched the moon hanging overhead.

' _Yes. We do not shy away from contention. It was a part of everyday life for the better part of our history, after all._ '

' _The enemy of my enemy is my friend. A shame it took the crisis to finally unite your country._ '

' _United we stand? Perhaps it is still early to say such things, but it is so to the public, at the very least._ '

' _Of course._ '

'How many languages _do_ you know, Dr. Ziegler?' Fareeha shook her head in what Angela hoped was admiration.

'Oh, enough.' Angela grinned back.

'It is an honour to have you, Dr. Ziegler.' The taxi driver stepped out of the car, lowering the wheels so that the vehicle remained stationary and didn't waste energy. He helped Angela to her feet, and immediately began unloading the luggage, a bellboy from the hotel already having a golden cart to help with the fairly large collection of cases. Angela assumed some form of security beyond Fareeha was in action as well, more than likely, but was happy to see it was smart enough to remain hidden.

The elevator transported Angela and Fareeha to the very top of the hotel, and when they finally entered their room, Angela felt the familiar guilt at being treated like royalty. Two king-sized beds, an enormous, breathtaking view of the ocean and beach, space to lounge and relax larger than most apartments had to offer. A gorgeous washroom, a perfectly furnished living room and kitchen, an expensive bottle of wine iced in the middle of a wonderfully decorated table with flowers and dim lights that set a tranquil mood.

'Whoa…' Fareeha exclaimed, causing the bellboy to smile while he unloaded the bags, bowing and being on his way promptly. The door slid shut, a lock initiating from within, and both women remained in partial shock.

'Jack must truly feel bad.' Angela suggested. 'He would have no choice but to dip into his personal funds to afford this.'

'Good.' Fareeha answered mercilessly. 'He owes you that much.'

'He's a good man, Fareeha.' Angela felt the need to defend her old friend.

'I don't disagree with that, but I can't help my irritation with him.' She looked around some more, gazing out the enormous window and touching the glass gingerly prior to sliding it open and letting the cool, sea's breeze flutter in, blowing through her thick hair as she closed her eyes temporarily, evidently relishing the moment. Angela stared. She couldn't deny the image, begging to engrain it into her memory forever. 'Still, this isn't so terrible.'

'Correct! Therefore, it is in my professional opinion that we best make the most of these few days off, for there is little time to do so in the coming weeks or months even.'

'Hm. Come here.' Fareeha nodded, the demanding tone in her authoritative voice not altogether distasteful.

Angela did as she was told, and felt Fareeha's arm gripping her shoulder, bringing her in close and holding her tightly. Angela touched the other woman's chest, feeling her heart, and rested her head upon her collar, mesmerized by both the sensation of the simple act and the glorious view before her of a moon-kissed beach and the variety of individuals still traversing it despite how late the night was.

'What do you say to a walk, Angela? We're so close it would be a waste not to, don't you think?'

The full day of travel _was_ tiring, but the cooling wind and touch of Fareeha was enough to convince Angela otherwise, and within minutes she was removing her shoes at one of the many entrances to Haeundae Beach, the sand tickling through her toes in a foreign but inviting way. Fareeha did the same, taking Angela's shoes with one hand and holding Angela's with her other.

'Shall we?' Fareeha asked, pulling Angela along, the pale light provided accentuating everything beautiful about the young woman.

How could Angela _ever_ doubt this connection? This feeling? This obvious trust she hadn't known until now? She skipped beside Fareeha, trying to keep up with the woman she had given her heart to. Fareeha laughed at her attempt, the physical prowess of both individuals worlds apart. Yet, it _was_ comedic, and Angela laughed even as she lost her balance and was brought up, lifted into the air and spun around, Fareeha's hands holding her waist and elevating her high as she felt her face beaming so earnestly it hurt. She took the Egyptian woman's cheeks in her palms, and looked down into her honest visage, the burning returning to her eyes she adored this soul so.

'What is it?' Fareeha questioned apprehensively, the silent exchange perhaps lasting too long for her.

Angela wanted to say so much, but she feared sounding desperate or even repetitive. How many times could she say something as simple as "I love you"? It felt less adequate each time. Less appropriate. Less meaningful. What she felt was proving incapable of being bound by mere words. Words were manmade. What Angela saw when she looked into Fareeha's eyes transcended that. Science didn't have an answer. Her gifted knowledge could only scrounge together loose theories that seemed juvenile.

Angela softly stroked Fareeha's firm cheek, feeling the smooth skin and moving to the pretty tattoo below her one eye. She traced it affectionately, and Fareeha didn't turn away like she used to out of discomfort.

' _Gay foreigners…_ '

' _Worse than omnics…_ '

Ah, yes. Haeundae Beach was busy even so late in the night. A crowded city, indeed. Angela had been swept up in the moment, forgetting about the numerous persons on the beach as well. They spoke in thick, ancient Korean intonation. Older individuals. Frustrated by the changing times and wars passed. Angela could understand their disdain, and perhaps Fareeha could recognize something nasty was being said, for her grip shifted, and her expression faltered. She likely didn't want to put Angela in a compromising position in public, having been the one to initiate such intimacy. Fareeha was just like that. All others before herself. Her needs; her desires came last, especially where Angela was concerned.

'Don't you dare let me go, Fareeha Amari.' Angela said with as much conviction as she could muster, and she kissed her precious knight. Kissed her deeply. Kissed her so fiercely it was nearly frightening. Her strong mouth. Her deep, erotic groans in her throat. Her powerful, unmatched grip upon Angela. She couldn't care less who saw them. She was proud of what she had found. She would never falter again. She would treasure Fareeha the way the woman deserved.

'I love you…' Angela cried in between feeling Fareeha's lips upon her own. 'I love you. I love you. God, I love you…so much. So very, very much…'

She responded with more affection, and Angela melted into her arms, their bodies heated and desires rising. They could both feel it, and before they escalated the exchange even further, they broke away, still staring at one another in something of a daze.

'I love you, too.' Fareeha said quietly, looking around then and shrugging. 'Um…shall we continue our walk?'

'Heheh! Indeed.'

Angela stayed close to her lady, the crashing of the waves and wind all around making for a perfect beginning to their vacation. They didn't travel too far, for Angela was bobbing only a hundred or so metres down the beach, but it was romantic and lovely all the same. Fareeha practically carried Angela to bed, and the doctor allowed the new warmth of her life to envelop her into a much needed night of recovery for both the body and soul.


	57. LVII: Tracer

Tracer

"Lena?"

'…Hey, Luv.'

"You actually called. Colour me surprised."

'Not like we left on a nasty note, right?'

"Guess not."

'Are you okay?'

"Um. Yeah. I mean, for the most part."

'No bad guys come a knocking?'

"I'm pretty sure you made certain some agents around here were keeping an eye on things."

'Maybe. Maybe.'

"Uh-huh. That pretty well confirms it. Terrible liar."

'That's a good thing, innit?'

"Obviously."

'…'

"…"

'So, what's up?'

"…"

'Emily?'

"Hm?"

'Uh…Work going okay?'

"Yeah. It's work."

'Heh. No news is good news and all that?'

"Yep."

'Great.'

"…"

'…'

"…I'm sorry for asking to talk."

'Nah. Don't be, Luv.'

"I…I thought I could do it."

'R-right…'

"But it's tough. It really is."

'Yeah.'

"…"

'…'

"What about you?"

'Me?'

"Yeah. Is it…tough for you, too?"

'…'

"…"

'Course it is, Em. Course it is…'

"But?"

'But…what?'

"Did you…already meet someone else?"

'N-no. Not really. U-um…'

"…"

'…Bloody hell…'

"Jesus. Really?"

'It's…not a thing or whatever. I-I mean…'

"Have you kissed her?"

'U-um…here and there…'

"Then it's a thing, Lena. It's a thing."

'Right…'

"Still can't be alone, huh? Still desperate to be with _someone_ all the time?"

'I didn't mean to, but…'

"Who is she? Do I know her?"

'No. Not exactly. And honestly, we're not dating or anything. Just fooled around some.'

"But you have a crush on her, don't you?"

'…A tiny one.'

"Because you miss me and need _someone_ to get that kind of attention from."

'Huh? I don't know about that…'

"I do. I know you, Lena. Better than she does. Do you love her?"

'No.'

"Do you no longer love me?"

'…Em. It hasn't been long enough. I still love you to the moon and back, but…'

"Then I want to make it work."

'W-what?'

"I tried the break up thing, Lena. I did it for you. But…the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't make sense of it. Why do we have to break up? I'm willing to wait for you. I _want_ to wait for you. I have protection. Hell, I could even be brought to your base, couldn't I? There are ways around just…just breaking up!"

'…Y-yeah. That's true.'

"…"

'…'

"So…?"

'What I do is crazy dangerous, Em. Bringing you to base isn't a good idea. It was just attacked not that long ago. We can't have civilians here for the time being.'

"Fine. I get that. But explain to me why we shouldn't be together if I'm willing to accept the risks involved and am okay with waiting for you."

'…Huh. That's a tough one.'

"…"

'…'

"I…I love you, Lena. Being apart from you for so long has really shown me that. I…I really miss you…"

'Don't cry, Em…'

"I can't help it. Sorry…"

'Nah. Seriously…'

"My apartment is so lonely, and…and when people ask about you I just become a mess. I say we're still together, and you're on a trip, because I can't…I don't want to think it's really over…"

'Em…'

"I-if you can't wait, then fine. Just…just tell me. If you really need to be fooling around with someone to keep your spirits up then…t-then just don't fall in love and don't talk about it. I-I'll still wait…"

'That ain't fair, Em.'

"I know. But…I get it. You're fighting a war that's only getting worse. The news is trying to hide it, but it's in the air. Unrest. Growing fear. Something's coming. Bloody hell, even I can feel it. You have such a big heart, but you also have needs…more than most, I think. S-so…yeah. I don't like it, but just…don't fall in love. I-I mean, only if you…Jesus. I'm being so pathetic…"

'…'

"I'm sorry, Lena. This was cruel of me…"

'No. Not at all, Em. I've been…kinda messed up too since we've been apart.'

"Yeah?"

'Yeah.'

"Then…can you at least think about it?"

'Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Definitely.'

"…Thank-you, Lena."

'No problem. Thanks, Em. Really.'

* * *

'We're about to land. Ready yourselves. We've already lost a number of scouts, and the shambles of what remains of this fair town does well to hide our foes. This supposed "monster" of an omnic or what have you has been terrorizing the perimeter Stuttgart, and the word is that the populace is concerned of it breaking through the defenses established.'

'This is where you and your master fought together for the last time…'

'Yes. Indeed, it is. A deserted space now, but not without its charm still.'

'What should _I_ focus on today, Reinhardt?'

'Your shield's placement. Too often you leave yourself vulnerable because of its size. Your ability to move is a boon for us both, but it is a simple matter to find weakness in your stance still.'

'Of course…'

'Lena? If this omnic is a speed type, we may need your abilities, understand? Lena? Lena!'

'Oi! Yeah?' Lena snapped herself from the dialogue that continued to circulate within her mind. Emily's voice. Her desperation. Her sorrow. Her obvious love. Over and over it played, each time leaving more of an impression that made the time traveler's stomach twist.

'I do not like this air of distraction about you, Lena. You are the epitome of a glass cannon. One mistake and you could fall,' Reinhardt snapped his massive hand, the sound echoing in the aircraft. 'Just like that.'

'Okay, Dad!' Lena jested, attempting to hide her embarrassment for being in such an unprofessional state just before a mission.

'No. You use that line with Jack and Jack alone. I am nobody's father.'

'Okay, Grandad!'

'Ugh! Even worse!'

'Hahah! Well, you're old enough to be one, Master.' Brigitte giggled.

'Unacceptable!'

Lena glanced to Widow, the woman completely silent the entire trip. Silent and still. It was pretty scary. Lena knew she had accidently put a wedge between them the moment she called Emily. She could feel it, and surely Widow did as well. Her feelings for the sniper were even more confusing than before, and the more she thought about Emily's words, the more they haunted her.

She cared about Amelie. Absolutely. But did she see a future with her like she could alongside Emily? Was there a point in pursuing anything more than flirtatious play? Was it even possible? Did Lena only want what she couldn't have, revelling in the taste but uncertain about what to do once that was over? Emily forced Lena to confront complications she knew existed but refused to combat willingly. Amelie was so bloody gorgeous, and she had a cute, attractive personality to boot, but did she and Lena connect on a deep, intimate level? Could Lena truly – utterly and completely – relax around this woman like she could with Emily?

'How you holding up over there, Luv?' Lena tried, wishing Widow would at least look at her.

She did not.

'Fine.' Was the quiet, stoic reply.

'Tch. A burden to the cause. She will be watching our backs? I feel more exposed than ever.' Reinhardt clicked his tongue, and Lena couldn't really blame him considering the way their sniper was acting.

'She's dealing with a lot right now, Rein. Give her a chance, okay? It's gotta be rough.' Lena defended regardless, knowing cooperation was imperative to any mission with such a small unit.

The plane landed, and the crew exited hastily, allowing the craft to depart with barely any pause, not wishing to remain in such an area.

'To be back so soon after answering the call. A cruel joke.' Reinhardt shouldered his oversized axe, its glimmering blade reflected by the afternoon sun and his armour looking as impressive as ever. They were planted in the depths of Eichenwalde's ghost town, the foliage continuing to overrun what was once a charming and ancient town.

'Isn't it a little strange that a God Program is hanging out around the castle? Don't they usually, you know, try and terrorize humans and stuff?' Brigitte commented intelligently.

'There's still a lot about the program we don't even understand, Luv. It's kinda like omnics in general, really. Mysterious and super complicated. Lotsa theories, but nothing especially concrete.'

'Complicated? We simply smash anything that attacks. Nothing terribly "complicated" about that.' Reinhardt chuckled.

'Permission to proceed into position?' Widow asked with a touch of exasperation.

'…Granted.' Lena thought it best she allow it, and as she was turning to give Widow a nod of encouragement, she was already grappling high and away, graceful as well as quiet as anything.

'Will that chip or what have you prevent her from pulling the trigger on _us_ should her fancy go in such a direction?' Reinhardt grunted, evidently unsure of Lena's decision.

'It's supposed to. Any urge to kill humans is meant to be sedated with a shock that pretty well renders her helpless. I've seen it in action, and it should be good.'

'Yet she killed one of our own.'

'That was before the adjustments Winston made to the chip version, Luv.'

"Widow here." Widow's voice found Lena's ear, and her chest tightened. "The area appears clear. Proceed with caution."

'If it's clear then why proceed with caution? The source of the God Program's activity is currently the castle, where my master's armour remains. We destroy it and bring his spirit peace once more.'

"A feeling. I don't like it."

'But you don't feel, as far as I'm told.'

'Reinhardt!' Lena snapped at the man, and he backed off, even Brigitte giving him a scowl.

"…I feel." Widow uttered without any hesitation. "Out."

A wave of guilt passed through Lena at the declaration, and her mind was abuzz all over again.

The group moved through Eichenwalde's ruins with Reinhardt in the lead, his incredible size and sheer girth enough to give everyone courage despite the nearly haunted quality of the space. Broken down omnics from the first crisis remained in shambles, plants worming their way through the pieces and destruction wrought by such a battle. Broken down buildings, rubble, and hints at what was once a charming, pretty little town outside the main city gave way to desolation, the idea to leave such a site as a reminder of what should be prevented at all cost in the future seeming the testament in place.

The group made it outside of the rural part of the town and entered the perimeter of the castle, the high, stone building as marveling as ever despite its incredible age and ancient form of architecture. Lena gazed up high, checking her surroundings carefully and growing more concerned with the lack of risk leading up to the current God Program. Squads sent in from Stuttgart had apparently been wiped completely, leading to Overwatch's unofficial recruitment, but Lena noted not a singular sign of opposition. Had the God Program moved toward the city again? Did it take whatever army it had control of?

'Such a shame this place isn't used anymore, huh, Reinhardt? It's so beautiful.' Brigitte broke the silence, the bright blue sky and hovering clouds making for a mission that didn't seem to carry an exceptional amount of weight. Still, it was no time to lose focus, and Lena was doing everything in her power to remain on point. Emily had to wait. Widow…had to wait.

'Indeed. Truly a place worth preserving in some fashion. Once this war is over, I will personally begin the recovery project. I'm sure my master would approve.'

The team successfully made it to a bridge that led directly into the ancient castle, but as they approached the entrance to the construct, Widow's voice hissed through their communicators.

"Be alert! They're coming…"

'What is this? Who are _they_ , pray tell?' Reinhardt equipped his helmet nonetheless, forcing Brigitte behind him and readying his blade.

'I don't see anything!' Brigitte's shield hummed into existence.

But they could hear it before a visual was confirmed. Lena turned, and what she saw made even her squirm.

One of the broken-down Bastion units was moving toward them, and it had a number of its fallen brethren in tow. Granted, some of them were more than a little worse for wear, but even on a bad day their sheer firepower couldn't be ignored.

'Heh. From the bowels of the castle as well. They waited until we were on the bridge to make their move. Clever monstrosities.' Reinhardt almost sounded excited as four OR14s scuttled out of the castle, similarly zombie-like to the Bastions, but ever more intimidating with the blades that buzzed at their side with various forms of functionality.

"A God program that manipulates the inanimate? _Impossible_."

'Tch. It's simple enough. Brigitte, you and I will fend off the beasts at the gate. Lena, you and our sniper surely can handle the rest?'

'Got it!' Brigitte slammed her flail to the ground, retracting it with a snap.

'Alright, Luv! Keep in touch! Amelie?'

"Create an opening and I shall do the rest."

'Roger!'

The OR14s weren't to be taken lightly, but as soon as Reinhardt charged forward, Brigitte following in behind and projecting a temporary armour pack to her master's ramming form. Lena blinked from her spot and began her assault on the Bastion units that rolled in from the other direction. It was a pincer attack, and if the group had hesitated even a little bit, they may have been in a much worse scenario. Instead, Lena used herself as bait, leaping about between the multitude of Bastion units (what was left of them), their sensors flashing red and their gatling guns spraying the areas Lena touched down upon before zipping away.

'Anytime, Amelie…!' Lena encouraged, and just as she said it, one of the Bastion units twitched, a number of other bullets flying through it before it didn't have enough left to function as a threat.

'Brilliant!' Lena spun in the air, upside down as she loaded another foe with concentrated pulse, the automaton requiring three full rounds prior to beeping into submission. She had brought E.M.P. pulse bombs if necessary, but she preferred to save such a weapon for a black omnic, should they encounter one as well.

"Behind you, foolish girl!" Widow shouted, and Lena recalled as quickly as she could, warping through space and time's vacuum before blinking away to evaluate her situation, noting another Bastion dropping as more continued to pour from the rural part of the town, some of their parts snapping apart, but their threat level remaining lethal.

'Tch! Cheeky…' Lena grit her teeth.

"Take a moment. Allow me." Widow grappled from her location, swinging from the overhang of the castle and unloading five perfectly placed shots, downing three Bastions prior to springing high into the sky, unlatching her hook at the precisely ideal moment to launch amongst such height. She went still, taking aim as she had that fateful day in King's Row, and easily downed two more Bastion's, landing with a roll upon her previous location anew.

Lena whistled, her chronal accelerator completely recharged now, and burst into action. Widow knew. She knew Lena needed to prepare for the next attack. She wouldn't let Widow do all the work, however, and was pushing forward afresh, her confidence in her comrade soaring as she jumped and flipped, shot and evaded while bullets flew past her in sync with her every action.

"Such erratic behaviour…" Widow muttered, but Lena pictured her doing so with a smile.

'You know you love it!' Lena giggled, almost at the entrance to the town prior to stopping before a Bastion just exiting the opening to the area. She shrugged, waved at the beeping machine, and swung her head to the right to allow the inevitable bullet to crush its sensor unit, rendering it crippled for Lena to easily finish the job.

Lena reloaded her Pulse Pistols, steam emitting from their cooling systems, and turned up to find a small shape on a piece of wooden construct next to the overhang's entrance.

'That it, Luv?'

"On our end, it seems to be so."

Lena listened for more sounds of omnics or automatons, but was relieved to hear nothing as she blinked back to the bridge where the group had parted.

'Did they seriously just take out all those OR14s? Like, really?'

"Seemingly…"

'Bloody hell.' Lena met back up with Reinhardt and Brigitte, the man removing his helmet with a smile as he turned to his squire, her breathing laboured, and a fresh gash across her cheek.

'I am filled with pride.' He said tenderly to the young woman, patting her head warmly.

'Those things…were insane…' Brigitte didn't sugar-coat it, but the fact of the matter was that they were surrounded by piles of scrap metal, the deadly and capable OR14s utterly in shambles.

'They are that.' Reinhardt agreed. 'I foolishly underestimated them before…' He touched the scar over his bad eye. 'But not this time. This time, you and I prevailed. True, they were shadows of what they once were, but I am no longer the brash lad I was in the past. Well done, Brigitte. You fought well once again. Your father will hear of this.'

'It's not _that_ big a deal, Rein…'

'How's your cut, Luv? Looks pretty deep.' Lena asked, noting the various breaks in her own outfit where some of the Bastion units managed to graze her.

'It's just a flesh wound.' Brigitte shrugged. 'Stings a little, but I'll be good.'

'And your encounter was successful as well, Lena?'

'Well, you get one of the best snipers in the world covering your back and yeah, someone like me can go a little nuts.'

Reinhardt eyed Widow, lifting his jaw slightly before humming a gruff sound of partial approval.

'My thanks for protecting our Lena, Widowmaker.' He said with obvious effort.

'I don't really have a choice.' She replied sarcastically, and any kindness Reinhardt attempted to exhibit died with the proclamation.

'She's just shy, Reinhardt. Leave her be.' Lena tried, but the damage was done, and Reinhardt turned in irritation.

'Let us proceed into the depths of Eichanwalde's castle, my comrades. Our welcoming party was interesting enough. Now, let us see what the main event has in store.'

'A God Program that can bring broken beings back to life? Unbelievable. I could've used a little longer to get ready for something like this.' Brigitte made a few last minute checks on her equipment, competently repairing minor scuffs on her shield.

'Bah. I was hoping for a challenge. Nearly destroyed machines are hardly that. We'll be home by breakfast.'

Lena allowed Reinhardt and Brigitte to get ahead a little as they chatted, and once they were mostly out of earshot, she went to Widow's side, her neck tightening in an awkward way before she started speaking.

'How you feelin', Luv?'

'Hm?' Widow turned, her sultry eyes dark and calculating.

'You doin' okay?'

'…Not particularly.'

'Oh.' Lena wasn't expecting that. She was tongue-tied; a rare moment in Overwatch history.

'But it will pass, as all things do.' She pushed passed the agent, and Lena panicked, knowing she would regret bringing the private matter up now of all times but feeling she absolutely had to.

'Listen, if it's about Emily, can we maybe talk about it a bit when we get back to base? I think there's a tiny misunderstanding somewhere.'

Widow stopped, Reinhardt and Brigitte's voices echoing from further away.

'Am I misunderstanding? Truly?' Widow sneered, and went on.

Lena ruffled her hair, shaking her head and chewing on the side of her lip in annoyance.

'Not…completely…' She admitted, hating herself more with every passing minute.

'My friends, what's with all this standing around? There's glory to be won!' Reinhardt extended his arms outward, displaying his enormous reach and watching Lena as she approached the group.

'Sorry! Just having a quick powwow with Amelie here. Making sure the head is all good.'

'It isn't.' Widow grinned. 'But you're safe.'

Brigitte blinked, looking to her master.

'Why are snipers so troublesome…?' The large man sighed, shaking his head.

'Because you can't hit them with your weapons?' Brigitte offered.

'Is that it? Perhaps…'

Lena laughed hesitantly, and as the team traversed the interior of the castle, a cold silence closed out the rest of the world outside, the hollow walls of what was once an impressive piece of architecture howling with mystique and apprehension. The God Program remained, according to Winston's information, and he hadn't contacted them again, meaning the threat was still around. But was it really lingering here of all places? Was it gathering its forces and planning an all-out assault on Stuttgart, the city's defenses in place too much for anything haphazard? How did the God Program even begin coming online again? Surely research had been done since the first Omnic Crisis…

The main throne room of the castle was impressive even in its palpitated state, something akin to Reinhardt's armour seated in the biggest chair Lena had ever seen, and the remains of a medieval, beautiful world seemingly frozen in time. Widow broke away from the group as if a shadow merging with her brethren, and Lena readied her pistols, certain the God Program would make its move soon enough if it meant to.

'Tch. This mission is appearing to be more and more a waste of resources. Two Grandmasters? Bah…Hardly a challenge thus far.' Reinhardt approached the pile of armour tentatively, nonetheless, his weapon at his side and his head lowered some.

'Balderich. Master. I have returned. The fighting continues, but my foolishness does not…or, at least, I try to stay its ugly head.'

"Hmph…" Widow huffed in the headset, and Lena wondered what had instigated the reaction. Reinhardt wasn't one to get sentimental, but clearly whatever had happened here impacted him greatly. An event that shaped him as a hero forevermore. They all had such stories; tales that governed their acceptance of a war they were called to fight. Emily had recognized Lena's need to return to this sort of life. She was willing to go forth with the risks it entailed. She even gave in to Lena's – looking back – lackluster reasoning to breaking things off when they did.

Why had Lena done that? Was it truly for Emily's safety and protection?

'Bloody selfish…' Lena winced.

'What's that?' Brigitte turned to the other woman, having given her master some deserved space.

Before Lena could answer, however, Reinhardt grunted abnormally, and he was thrown across the room, crashing into the back wall and falling into a pile of equipment, his weapon still in hand.

'W-what the bloody hell!?' Lena exclaimed, and as she looked forward, the armour that had belonged to Reinhardt's master began moving, pushing itself up from its throne and grabbing hold of the two weapons on either side of itself, wielding both simultaneously with ease. Its eyes flashed red, and the grinding of its construct shifted under the sheer weight and time wrought upon it.

" _Lunacy…_ "

'You got that right, Luv!' Lena snapped her pistols on either side of herself, wondering how best to take such a strange foe down.

'Ah-ha! Now, this is more like it! Come at me! I _live_ for combat!' Reinhardt hollered, blasting forward with his battle axe in both hands. 'For shaming my master, you will pay!'

It was like watching two tanks collide, the sound was so dense, and the blows traded just as powerful. The castle itself seemed to vibrate, and Reinhardt showed everyone why he was one of the strongest individuals the world had to offer. Still, it quickly became clear that this foe had the advantage of _not_ being made of flesh and blood, and the lion of Overwatch was soon beginning to huff and gasp as he exchanged attacks, shifting between his shield and swinging his mighty blade.

'Not so foolish anymore, huh?' Brigitte had been showing signs of wanting to join the fray, and she did so in that moment, practically leaping into the colossal duel, parrying one of the armour's weapons and controlling her zone with pristine, elegant aggression.

It was a sight to see, and one Lena had envied missing during Gibraltar's infiltration. She thought she and Widow had impressive enough teamwork, but there was something undeniably picturesque about the way Reinhardt and Brigitte fought, a cub doing everything in its power to protect and support its much larger and more powerful parent. She was becoming stronger on the spot, learning and adjusting her behaviour in order to best present Reinhardt with the opportunities he needed to crush his adversary. The strength it must have required to push at Balderich's armour the way she did; what sort of training did she endure? And here Lena remained, distracted by girlish thoughts that had no place on the battlefield. People got hurt by such frivolous notions.

'I'm gonna do what I can to support them, Widow. That thing is taking a beating, but it ain't goin' down. You got my back?'

"…Against a being with no clear weaknesses or circuitry?"

She sounded as though she were smiling. Could she tell the tonal shift had occurred so easily? Was Lena's wishy-washy attitude as annoying to the older woman as it was to the time traveller herself?

'I have a feeling you'll make it work.'

"Heh. Rather high expectations…but I accept."

'Oh, and we're talking when we get back to base. You don't have a choice. I hate this weirdness between us right now.'

"…So be it."

At that, Lena felt lighter than ever before. She flew into action, knowing it was pointless to fire aimlessly into such a brawl-type fight but aware only she could get close enough and out fast enough to figure out this ridiculous thing's weakness. She watched and waited, drawing closer and closer to the suit of armour as the sounds of Reinhardt's blade and the life-fueled being's duel weapons clanged, reverberating throughout the castle. Brigitte's grunts of effort were increasing in frequency as well, and Lena knew – the battle having gone on longer than it should have already – that stamina would soon be a factor on their side, but not the God Program's.

"Now." Widow said quite simply, and Lena trusted her. She didn't hesitate at all, and that meant something. She blinked into the midst of the fight and navigated her tiny body around the enormous armour (which was much bigger up close), and spotted a slight glow where the back of Balderich's neck would have been mashed against. She attempted to point at the spot, but was forced to recall away, the armour charging suddenly and pinning Reinhardt to a wall. The man took the assault with a notably pained gasp, barely slowing the slam to his head, and Brigitte screamed, throwing any and all caution to the wind while hurling herself into the fight like a wild animal. Her flail snapped into pieces at last, and her shield shattered, but she still fought, doing everything in her power to stop the armour from breaking Reinhardt completely in his defenceless state.

Inevitably, Brigitte was pinned to the earth, the armour raising its weapon to finish her once and for all, Reinhardt blinking to keep himself conscious as he attempted to move to block the deathblow. He wasn't going to make it. Lena wouldn't be able to lift Brigitte's weight in time either. Lena could see the realization in Brigitte's eyes too. They widened in fear and regret, her mouth trembling. She looked to Reinhardt desperately, perhaps thinking he would always be there to save her. Lena wasn't sure. It all happened so fast and slowly at once.

However, a single shot changed everything.

The armour flinched, and simply collapsed upon Brigitte, the girl squealing in shock yet also relief. She pushed the heavy pieces off herself, and Lena was there to help, soft clacks approaching from behind, Widow's rifle steaming just slightly from the bullet she had released at, more than likely, a near-impossible angle.

'Brigitte!' Reinhardt stumbled to his squire, managing to pick her up in his shaking arms. 'My Brigitte! A-are you well?'

'It's…just a flesh wound…kinda.' Brigitte repeated herself ironically, and Lena laughed, not knowing how to respond otherwise.

'You…' Reinhardt addressed Widowmaker, humbleness in his voice. 'You saved her.'

'I destroyed the target.' Widow shrugged coldly.

'No.' The man went on, a shakiness to his intonation. 'A moment – a second – later, and she would have been lost to me. To her father and mother. To her family. You could have let that happen. But you didn't. You think you hide it so well? You don't. You overexerted yourself to make that shot, didn't you? Your arm is trembling. Your stance is just a little unbalanced.'

Widow didn't respond, and Lena's heart skipped. Her silence screamed affirmation. Her apparent disinterest belied a caring, dedicated soul.

'Thank-you…' Reinhardt almost begged. 'I…have been cruel to you. It was not fair. Are all ill feelings wiped clean? Perhaps not. But…what you did today will not soon be forgotten, nor will it be kept secret. Thank-you…'

Winston checked in and claimed the God Program's transmission disappeared, dubbing the mission a success with only "minor" injuries, as Reinhardt insisted. The group salvaged what appeared to be some form of parasitic omnic implanted within Balderich's armour. They sent what information they could to Overwatch Gibraltar and safely stored away the remains of the abnormal omnic and the God Program that hopefully remained dormant within it for examination.

It didn't take long for the ride back to arrive in Eichenwalde, and Lena breathed out in relief once they were in the air again. Initially, the mission seemed a little too easy for such a strong yet small group, but Lena was glad every individual had been recruited for the task, for almost any other combination of high class agents might have struggled. She looked to Widow, who had her eyes closed as a means to gain some privacy. That didn't mean much to the spunky girl.

'Head okay?' Lena asked, trying to regain the closeness in how she used to speak to the woman not so long ago.

'Somewhat…'

'The medicine Angela has provided is weakening?' Reinhardt inquired, the softness in the way he addressed Widowmaker in this moment almost unsettling.

'Yes. My body is adjusting to its counter-formula.'

'Hmph. Give Angela time. She will fix you. No other could even try. But she…she is a once-in-a-century genius.'

Widow smirked, but nodded anyway.

'If that is true, I will be thankful.'

Lena was about to say something else on the matter, but her phone beeped, and although she hesitated to check the message, she knew how it would look if she ignored it altogether now. Thus, she brought it out and bit at her lip, not sure if she wished to hear from Emily right now or not.

Lena flinched at the text, however, and Widow finally turned her way.

'What is it?' She asked.

Lena wasn't sure she had a clear answer, so, she showed the other woman the message, the normal hues of her device's screen filtered into a violet tone with little pixelated skulls flashing about.

"Cheers, Luv! Have time for a chat? Sure, you do. Bring Spider. Just you two. Got some info that could change the entire game we're all playing. Gamble gamble gamble! Hahah!"


	58. LVIII: Pharah

Pharah

Shinsegae Centrum City was once considered the largest shopping complex in the world. Since its Guinness World Record, however, more buildings such as the one Fareeha and Angela attempted to navigate had sprouted up, namely one in Hong King, China which now held the official title. Nonetheless, Shinsegae was quite something to explore, and Fareeha didn't mind the grand scope of it all, with everything around her sparkling, and the sheer mass of people and conversations occurring so rapidly truly overwhelming in every sense of the word. English could be heard prominently enough, but Asian culture still bucked at the idea of the language being universally accepted as the primary tongue to be spoken, lending the background noise to a barrage of Korean dialect Fareeha couldn't make heads or tails of as well.

Not that any of it mattered that much to her.

To say she was somewhat distracted would be a slight understatement. Angela danced about the various shops, perusing the jewellery, clothes, and interesting knick-knacks in a gorgeous spring dress, the tasteful floral print and primarily white-coloured piece drawing not only Fareeha's attention, but many of the Korean resident's eye. She was not only a foreigner, but one with light, golden blonde hair and mesmerizingly bright blue eyes. She was slender and tall with just the perfect amount of curves, and her outfit made her all the more appealing.

Fareeha drew her own attention, she noticed, but her Amazonian build had a different flair of spectacle, resulting in dumbfounded stares or earnest attempts not to pay her too much heed. She didn't honestly care what others thought of her, what with her sleeveless shirt and jean shorts, but she _did_ find herself concerned with how Angela was perceived because of her, and wanted to conduct herself accordingly, as always.

'Fareeha! Over here!' Angela waved her down, and Fareeha had to be a little forceful as she pushed through the constant crowd she wasn't exactly used to. Angela was before quite the collection of sparkling jewelry, the diamonds and other gems glimmering practically unnatural.

'Quite the selection…'

'Indeed! Although you don't have to pretend to be interested.'

'I-I'm not.'

'Which one do you fancy, then, Fareeha?'

'Hm. The onyx collection is appealing.'

'Oh, yes! Black suits you wonderfully, I must say. Topaz or the ruby style would fair sufficiently as well. Your skin tone is quite fetching.'

'Is it?'

'You know this. I've said it before.'

'I can't quite recall.' Fareeha feigned ignorance.

'Oho! Lacking in compliments, are we? Shall I go on?'

'Not here, no.'

'But then when shall I praise your knee-weakening gaze, sensual abdominals, or passionate touch, hm?'

She was in full teasing mode, and Fareeha could see that her words weren't completely lost on the customers around them.

'W-what about you?' Fareeha tried, indicating the sets of expensive jewelry again. 'Is there a type that draws your eye?'

'Heh.' Angela calmed mercifully. 'I find myself intrigued by the lighter tones. So, the pearls, amethyst, and rose quartz, you see?'

'I do. Any would look good on you, really.'

'I never gave it that much thought until now, but perhaps someday I shall treat myself.'

'Maybe…' Fareeha thought about which piece would look best, wondering if she could perhaps stealthily make the purchase given such an opportunity. The earrings? No. Necklace, perhaps? It was a bit much. A ring? A little too serious? But Fareeha _was_ serious. Very much so.

'I will refuse it, Fareeha.' Angela raised a brow slyly. 'Do not waste your money on such trinkets. Even from you, I would rather the funds be given to one of the charities I support. I do not need something that shines uselessly while children and adults alike suffer. I struggle enough with this vacation as it is. Don't make it worse for me.'

'Angela…'

'I mean it. A little purchase here and there is fine, but these accessorise are far too expensive. The cost doesn't add value to it for me, Fareeha. Show me a receipt from one of my charities and I would be that much more appreciative.'

Fareeha shook her head, loving how dedicated Angela was, but finding some frustration in not being able to do something extravagant for her like this. They _were_ lovely gems, but Angela's tone made it very clear; she would be pained by such frivolity, and thus, Fareeha turned her eyes away.

Still, exploring Shinsegae was an incredible experience. Taking escalator after escalator up each floor, the sheer height of the building and all the shops it housed absolutely amazing. Each sector had its own personality, from the perfume stores to the clothing, to the furniture, to more and more jewelry. The salesclerks were a _little_ aggressive, but Angela had a way with them that seemed to tactfully push them along and away. Everything was clean, and Fareeha enjoyed having silly moments with Angela as she tried on various clothes and acted just a little senseless, which made her all the more endearing. Fortunately, Angela wasn't completely against purchasing something as functional as outfits for herself, and she even collected a mass quantity of articles she found a particularly good deal on, utilizing the service provided to ship the six boxes-worth to her desired locations in need.

'There.' Fareeha cut in as the transaction was being completed, tapping her credit card to the machine and visually confirming the successful sale.

'Fareeha…!' Angela rarely lost composure in public, but her eyes immediately began watering, and she shook her head in disbelief. 'No…! That was…that was a small fortune-worth of product! Y-you didn't have to – '

The clerk eyed the scenario with apprehensive jumpiness, likely praying the enormous transaction under her numbers wouldn't be immediately refunded. Fareeha simply nodded confidently, taking the bags that were actually Angela's.

'Thank-you.' She said to the clerk's relief, and dismissed herself, allowing a flustered Angela to follow.

'Fareeha Amari! I am quite well off because of everything I have accomplished in life. To me, that amount truly is hardly a drop in what I have access to should I wish it. However, you _just_ became a Master, and I am well aware of what the army generally offers as compensation. Surely you – '

'For you, no amount is too much, Angela.' Fareeha cut the woman off, turning to her with bags in tow. 'I want for nothing so long as you remain at my side. That is the simple reality of it all. Allow me this small token of affection, for it is hardly anything when compared to the unparalleled happiness you bring me every second of every day.'

Angela opened her mouth to say more, but then hastily clamped it shut, her cheeks turning bright red as she almost pouted.

'That's my good girl.' Fareeha gave her lady a little hip check, loving this closeness. 'You know how stubborn I can be.'

'Matched only by my own at times, yes.' Angela relented.

'Come on. It's past noon already. The basement has food, from what I read. Let's try some things and then head to the beach.'

'Oh, alright.' And Fareeha considered her gift a success, for Angela was especially clingy, rubbing her arm as she held it and even giving Fareeha a light peck in public when a moment of closeness (such as waiting to descend on an escalator) presented itself. No amount of money could buy the feelings working their way through Fareeha's heart. She had found her reason to smile without reserve.

The basement floor of Shinsegae was an entirely different beast, with frantic shoppers and lines everywhere for food. It was interesting enough, and the shows the various cooks and bakers put on for their audience as they put together meals was fascinating. Fareeha found one chef catching her eye as he wielded knives with deadly precision, slicing at vegetables with speed Genji would be proud of. Angela clearly noticed Fareeha's intrigue, for she suggested they eat at his station eventually, an incredible dish of fried rice, eggs, vegetables, and an assortment of meat mixed into a delightfully flavourful plate worth waiting for. Before leaving Shinsegae completely and catching one of the many buses constantly circulating the city, Angela and Fareeha purchased an enormous cheesecake, the weight of the sinful treat something Fareeha had to bear until they returned to their hotel room.

* * *

'It looks quite different during the day!' It was the first thing Angela said as she and Fareeha stepped onto Haeundae Beach, the clear sky and sprinkled sand all around them. 'It stretches so far out, and there are people absolutely everywhere!'

'True…' Fareeha glanced away, wondering what lay hidden beneath Angela's light zip-up sweater that concealed her lovely body, reaching just below her upper thigh. Fareeha herself had picked, quite naturally, a black bikini, opting to have her jean shorts overtop of the bottoms. While Angela wore a cute straw sunhat, Fareeha was in a red baseball cap, the rim of it pinching against her aviator sunglasses. She carried a large umbrella, a few towels, and even some refreshments for herself and Angela, most of which lovingly provided by the hotel staff, dubbing it "service" or what have you. It would be a fun day. The sun was beaming, and Angela could finally relax just a little.

'Goodness.' Angela gave Fareeha a restrained grin. 'Must you display your stomach so? It's surely distracting to those around us.'

'I don't think that's true.' Fareeha scanned the area, noting more than a few stares, but most of them resting on Angela's angelic appearance. 'I seem to frighten most of the locals.'

'S-still…I didn't expect your outfit to be so revealing…'

'Oh?' Fareeha smiled, approaching Angela so her abdominals grazed the older woman's arm.

'Not so close…' Angela reddened too cutely.

'Am I distracting _you_ , Angela Ziegler?'

'Hmph. I do not like it when you tease me in public like this.'

'Hah! But it's fine for you to do so to me?'

'I have seniority.'

'Ridiculous.'

'If you don't want to make a scene, I suggest you step away. I _will_ pounce upon you, Fareeha.'

'I almost want to see it!'

Angela huffed again, stomping away a bit.

'You're a naughty little girl. I suppose one must be punished for behaving so.'

'Am I about to be slapped?' Fareeha giggled.

'No. Much worse.' Angela grinned devilishly, and while Fareeha contemplated what that could mean exactly, Angela removed her sweater, the swift motion catching her off balance as a red, full-body, skin-tight swimsuit was revealed, a white cross overtop the left breast that was hugged so snuggly within the material. Fareeha almost dropped the gear, her blood instantly quickening at the sight. A bit of Angela's backside curved out of the suit, and she turned, seductively making eyes at Fareeha without a hint of subtlety.

'Oh, my God…' Fareeha breathed.

'Less is more, as they say?' Angela bit at her lip, finally giving in to the embarrassment she must've been feeling. 'Lena suggested such a suit. She said it would…er…drive you wild. Something akin to an old, rather silly show about lifeguards in somewhat dysfunctional swimsuits? She won me over by saying, generally, this is a spinoff style based on those who serve as saviours at the beach. Fitting, no?'

'Very.' Fareeha swallowed, having to look elsewhere.

'Aha! Having a taste of sweet karma, hm? A pity we aren't in our room, I suppose. The things you would do to me?'

Fareeha shook her head, trying to think straight as she answered.

'We have to return there eventually.' She decided to say, and a strange look came over Angela. Nothing overly concerning, but an uncanny expression of expectation and excitement, as if she knew something Fareeha didn't.

'That _is_ true, isn't it?'

The two women scoured for a space for their stuff, and eventually managed to squeeze in beside a young Korean family with their little girl who was quite busy building her grand sandcastle. Pleasantries were exchanged, with Angela displaying her command of the language once again, and soon everything was settled, the umbrella creating some much-needed shade and just the right amount of privacy. They covered themselves in spray-on sunscreen, Fareeha getting the pleasure of rubbing the stuff onto a spot on Angela's back she couldn't reach, and the two women were on their way, walking about the grand beach in the daylight and enjoying the crashing waves and sounds of others having a grand time.

Fareeha reached for Angela's hand, and she took it willingly, moving in close to the other woman and pressing her arm against her, an intense amount of affection transferred through the act.

'I hope everything is well back at the base…' Angela decided to mention, and Fareeha nodded.

'We'll be returning before we know it. Although I am concerned as well, to a degree, I must say this is a pretty great vacation. Busan is a beautiful city, and this beach is very cool! It seems to go on forever, doesn't it?'

'Indeed! Best not to venture too far lest we lose where we placed our belongings.'

'True! So many people as well!'

'Yes. This is Korea, after all. It has a densely packed populace. Oh! Look there! Heheh!'

'My, my! A tanned bunch, aren't they?'

Angela pointed at a group of men playing volleyball, all of them abnormally dark and wearing very little. They strutted about proudly, their fairly ripped bodies difficult to ignore. They were obviously something of an anomaly, much like Fareeha and Angela in a way, because Koreans were generally more reserved than not, bikinis, such as Fareeha's notably rare, as she observed.

'They appear to be having a good time.'

'But are one man short of a fair game.'

'Well, whatever could we do about that?'

Fareeha glanced down to Angela, and she gave her a shove. Fareeha needn't be told twice. She was always interested in some physical activity, and liked sports enough. She introduced herself, and offered to join with the appropriate hand gestures and broken English returned to her. Soon enough, she was playing beachball volleyball with a mass of half-naked men, her height the same if not taller than all of them.

Angela clapped with encouragement, screaming out Korean and English while she acted as something of a referee, waving her hands about cutely and eventually being handed a whistle by another spectator. The event become something of a marvel, and Fareeha had great fun involving herself, beginning to sweat profusely by the end of the third round. Still, the men were loving her by this point, and a small crowd had gathered, a number of young males speaking to Angela boldly.

This, obviously, annoyed Fareeha, but she restrained herself, knowing Angela was a grown woman and could fend for herself just fine. She had done so over the course of her almost forty years on earth, hadn't she? Yes. Fareeha would simply focus on the game. Focus. Bump. Spike. Set. Serve. Bump. Spike. Set. Serve. Bump…is that man putting his arm around her Angela!?

'I think I'm done.' Fareeha stepped off the court and hooked her own arm around Angela, fearing what sort of reaction her lady was having to her jealous aggression. 'Lovers!' She said clearly, bringing Angela to the edge of the beach where the water was cascading toward them at soothing intervals. She could hear a rather loud amount of discussion being had at the sudden dismissal, and part of her regretted her immaturity, but she simply couldn't help it.

'I'm sorry.' Fareeha shook her head, still not brave enough to look at Angela's face. 'I lose all composure at the thought of anyone taking you from me. It's foolish; I understand, but – '

'Do you not recall our trip to the lady's room in Oasis, Fareeha?' Angela interrupted, a touch of amusement in her voice.

'I…I do. Fondly even.'

'Well. If that's the case, I fear I don't understand your apology, for I acted in much the same way. Par for the course considering our honeymoon period is lasting longer than anticipated. I read that it will pass.'

'Hard to imagine.' Fareeha tried, but it just didn't seem possible. 'And you read up on such a thing? Ever the scholar.'

Angela blushed a little at this, and Fareeha smiled broadly. This made her partner pout even further, and with a quick shove, Fareeha was stumbling into the water, splashing about up to her shins and going tense at the low temperature of the ocean.

'You challenge me?' Fareeha squinted playfully, and Angela appeared to catch on to what was coming, for she gave a small squeak just before she was pounced on, Fareeha lifting her with ease and stomping through the water to a deeper part.

'Don't! Don't! Don't! Fareeha! Don't!' Angela begged, struggling to no avail.

'Never start a fight you can't finish. That's basic training.' And Fareeha tossed her, the splash that accompanied Angela's submersion satisfying and hilarious.

'I cannot _believe_ you!' Angela pounded her hands into the water, attacking Fareeha with projectiles made of the same hydration that had engulfed her.

'Feh. Pitiful.' Fareeha pursued the game, walking toward Angela without flinching. 'It would seem you haven't learned your lesson, young lady.'

'I-I'm older than you!'

'This again.' Fareeha stopped, gave Angela a wink, and then jumped in beside her, sitting upon the sand and allowing the water to level about her chest as she glanced at Angela, moving some wet hair from her face.

'Did I go too far?' She asked tentatively, and although Angela tried valiantly to hold a straight face, she couldn't restrain the sudden laughter exploding from deep within, her voice like wind chimes in the air.

'What were you, some sort of villain? Goodness, Fareeha! It was hysterical! Hahah! My! I was quite frightened for a moment, I won't lie. You even went so far as to tossing me in? You're becoming quite comfortable within our relationship, aren't you?'

Fareeha chuckled hesitantly.

'Perhaps… _too_ comfortable?'

'No!' Angela touched Fareeha's lips, opening her hand to cradle the woman's face. Her fingers were a little cold, but the connection was always welcome. 'Believe me, the more I learn about you – the closer we become – the more I am hopelessly falling in love with you all over again. Show me more of what makes Fareeha Amari Fareeha Amari, won't you? I cannot get enough whatsoever.'

Fareeha breathed out in a sigh of subtle relief.

'I just enjoy being with you, Angela. I can relax. I'm learning more about myself, to be honest. Never before have I been so open with another living being. I am truly blessed.'

'As am I.' Angela grinned adorably, and Fareeha moved in a little closer. 'Are you going to kiss me now?' She asked a little strangely.

'If…that is alright.' Fareeha flinched back.

'Not at all. Please do.'

And Fareeha did just that, something in the act having changed in a way Fareeha couldn't describe easily. Were their lips simply becoming more accustomed to one another? How could kissing Angela electrify Fareeha even further than before? She breathed out, breaking away from the woman and covering her mouth shyly.

'Mm. It wasn't just me, then?' Angela's eyes were wide, the bright sun nearly making her gorgeous irises white.

'I…'

'Heh. Do not concern yourself too terribly with it, Fareeha.'

A pause, with the sounds of the ocean and a nearby beach enough to fill the void of silence.

'I propose we keep such public displays of affection to a minimum – and do not think for a moment I say this because I don't wish to – but I fear my control is slipping that much more easily and certain…biological processes initiate rather effortlessly due to your pleasing and welcomed touch. It is not proper…'

Fareeha processed what Angela said, realizing it was more of a compliment than not, and thus, she understood the roundabout way she was making quite the claim.

'Okay. I understand. It is for the best.'

Angela floated in a little closer, touching Fareeha's leg beneath the water.

'Tonight, my knight. Tonight.'

A chill ran Fareeha's spine. She didn't need to hear any more. Thank goodness they were already in the water. Angela was more than correct. How easily it happened for Fareeha now. How ready she was already.

* * *

Once Fareeha managed to cool down, relaxing in the ocean with Angela proved to be a worthwhile experience. Although she wasn't one to simply waste a day away with doing nothing productive, this was certainly a nice change of pace, and watching other people go about their days on the beach was entertaining in its own right. Scanning the sky and looking off into the distance at the sprawling metropolis that was Busan city was impressive as well, the city metamorphosizing between a day version and night version of itself, Fareeha having difficulty believing the seizure-inducing lights of the landscape the night before was the same area she and Angela currently gazed out upon. Neon, flashing images everywhere one looked, with shops, apartments, and people utilizing any and all space provided despite the looming threat of the unique omnics that terrorized the land on the regular.

'Ah! Look over there! Quite the gathering of individuals, wouldn't you say?' Angela pointed, her arm glimmering and her chest just barely floating above the water's surface. Fareeha ripped her eyes away and noticed what the older woman was indicating, an almost frighteningly large amount of folk practically running to what appeared to be some sort of event.

As if perfectly on cue, music exploded from the spectacle, and Fareeha moved closer to the edge of the beach, lifting her head in a futile attempt to see anything a little more clearly in the distance. The tune was full of energy, but a little too pop-y for Fareeha's personal taste.

'What on earth could possibly be happening to validate such a sudden event?' Angela touched Fareeha's arm.

'Want to find out?'

Fareeha and Angela hastily dried themselves off, Angela choosing to put her light zip-up and hat back on before taking Fareeha's hand and allowing herself to be led to the event. The music got louder, and the gathered crowd's obvious excitement only amplified the air of anticipation. Fareeha could make out multiple signs that were clearly advertising some form of energy drink, or whatever it was, and Angela was the one who pointed out an image of the same young woman she had discussed during their landing within Busan.

'I see! It's a sponsored event for…Nano Cola? Is DVa truly going to be present?'

'That would explain the crowd, wouldn't it?'

'My! She's something of a hero, from what I understand. Perhaps we should do our best to meet with her and thank her for the contributions she made to the war. As much as I would love to have her join Overwatch, I do believe she makes the right decision by staying here for the time being.'

'So do I…' Fareeha swallowed her jealousy, hating the way she couldn't control it as easily as she wished.

' _Everyone! Thank-you for joining us today! After her most recent battle against the Gwishin, DVa has fully recovered and is happy to be here to not only promote the delicious Nano Cola, but to also show her appreciation to you, the people of Busan, for staying strong in the face of danger! So, let's put our hands together for Hana Song a.k.a. DVa~!_ '

'Oh, my! She's really here!'

But Fareeha could hardly hear Angela for the cheering and music was too loud, and the crowd began shuffling about, everyone doing everything within their power to even catch a glimpse of their city's most popular celebrity at this moment in history. Fareeha noted the intrigue in Angela's voice, and she quickly lifted her lady up and onto her shoulders, reveling in the body pushing against her head, and holding Angela's pleasing legs with pride.

'Can you see anything now?' She screamed up to her.

'Oh, my gosh! Fareeha, you absolutely brilliant woman! Your strength never fails to impress! Heheh! There's nothing worth relaying just yet, but – '

What Angela said next couldn't be heard. The cheers became deafening, and the music reached its peak. Angela was clapping away, and Fareeha could only assume that DVa had made her appearance and was proceeding through the crowd to the stage that was clearly implemented into Haeundae Beach for this very reason.

' _Everyone! Thank-you for being here today for this super special event!_ '

She had a cute voice, Fareeha would give her that. The crowd was going absolutely wild, the stardom of this young woman on an entirely different level than Fareeha would have guessed.

' _My team's Mekas are just about completely repaired, and that means those annoying Gwishin are way closer to being destroyed forever! Even as it adapts and changes, so do we, and with your support and faith, I know we can win!_ '

The screaming was almost too much, but Angela seemed to be having a good time, and she was cheering away, showing her support to a fellow hero.

' _I'm so excited to be here today, and even more excited to be able to fight again! As a lot of you know, I kinda have a bad habit of snacking and binging on Nano Cola! I'm pretty sure my blood is made of the stuff now._ '

Laughter. Fareeha didn't really understand everything DVa was saying, but that was fine.

' _But it IS really yummy, and it has some surprisingly good nutrients going on inside, so, if you ever need a boost, definitely go for a Nano Cola, ESPECIALLY since half of the proceeds go toward our Meka Program and relief funds for parts of our country that still need help! I am proud to be partnered with Nano Cola, and have seen firsthand the work they're doing to better our country and the world!_ '

'I like her!' Angela claimed loud enough for Fareeha to hear.

' _With that, let's get this show on the road! I'll be here for a few hours, so, please form a neat and tidy line so we can start the meet and greet! I can't wait to say "hi" to you all, and remember to maybe grab a drink while you're here! Let's totally win this war in memory of those who fought to get us here!_ '

Angela tapped Fareeha's shoulder, and she eased her down, staying close to the woman as she spoke into her ear.

'We don't have to if you don't want to, but this is something of a meet and greet, I suppose. Would you mind standing in line with me? I would love to speak with her.'

Fareeha eyed the line, knowing it was at least a couple of hours worth of waiting. Still, Angela hardly ever asked for much, thus, Fareeha's answer came easily.

'Of course. Anything for you.'

Angela's smile was reward enough, but when she kissed Fareeha, giving her upper lip a small touch of her tongue, Fareeha had no regrets…even two and a half hours later when she and Angela finally neared the front of the line, the music now grating on Fareeha's nerves a bit and the constant shoving a little aggravating.

'I will show my thanks, Fareeha. Understand that.' Angela whispered closely, making Fareeha outwardly shiver, before approaching DVa, speaking fluent Korean to the young woman's initial surprise.

' _My name is Angela Ziegler, and it is an honour to meet you, Hana Song. What you do here for your country is truly admirable, and your support of those still in need brings me nothing but joy!_ '

' _Angela Ziegler!? Hold on! Like, THE Angela Ziegler? I don't even do the whole biology thing and even I know about you! Oh, my gosh! You're crazy famous! One of the original heroes! You're so beautiful!_ '

'Thank-you! The pleasure is mine. Do you mind?' Angela glanced back to Fareeha considerately.

'Oh! Yeah. No problem. I can do English. Hi!' DVa waved to Fareeha, and she felt her stomach do a little turn. In person she really was quite adorable. A tiny thing with modest curves, but a certain mischievous allure that wasn't so terrible. She was much more honest and down to earth than Fareeha assumed she would be as well. Attractive all around, really.

Fareeha blinked.

So, was she truly the type of person who could be sexually interested in both men _and_ women equally? Although, now that she gave it even more thought, when was the last time she even enjoyed being with a man? Had she ever? Looking at the young lad not too far from DVa, he was handsome, she supposed, but that didn't mean she would be interested in…

'Fareeha?'

'Oh! Hello!' Fareeha saluted frantically. 'Fareeha Amari. You're doing good things here. Keep it up.'

'Hahah! The serious type, huh? Bodyguard?'

'Girlfriend.' Angela said happily, and Fareeha blushed with pride.

'Ooo! Really~? She's so tall and strong looking! I guess I can get that.' The girl gave Fareeha a wink, and she wasn't sure how to respond. 'Wait a minute! Amari!? Like…Ana Amari Amari?'

'Er…Yes. She was my mother.'

'This is insane! You're both super important Over – um – people!' DVa checked around herself, retreating to a number of (what Fareeha imagined were) public relations agents. The young lad Fareeha had eyed before seemed especially unsure as he handed DVa what appeared to be some pamphlets. She returned and placed the small slips into Angela's hands.

'We _have_ to chat. Seriously. These are passes to a special club in Busan. It's very V.I.P. I want you both there. Say around nine-ish?' She leaned in closer, maintaining a perfect smile for the people that could still see her. 'Things are getting messy, huh?'

Angela nodded, and Fareeha gave a gruff hum.

'Yeah. Getting harder to hide it. Let's do some brainstorming. Sound good?'

'I would like that.' Angela confirmed.

'Sweet!' DVa backed off, waving enthusiastically. ' _Thank-you so much for coming! Feel free to buy some Nano Cola!_ '

' _I'll take two cases._ ' Angela said, and the individuals running the event seemed shocked. ' _And I would like to make a direct donation to your Meka program as well as whatever charity you deem the most beneficial for your country. I'll transfer the money immediately._ '

* * *

'You're something else, Angela…' Fareeha decided to say, staring at the twenty-four pack cases she had purchased at the beach. A lovely Korean barbeque was had, where it was something of an enjoyable communal event at a gorgeous restaurant, and the two women had returned to their hotel room, the time just a little after seven-thirty and preparations for going out to Output Busan underway, their gifted coupons allowing them access to what must've been some form of "members only" sector of the rather popular night club.

'I'm not. I merely give what I have been blessed with. I have no need for a luxurious lifestyle beyond what I have been fortunate enough to enjoy already.'

'Fine. I know not to push the subject.'

'Indeed.' Angela sighed in front of the mirror within the washroom, holding up a pretty white dress that wasn't dissimilar to the one she had worn in Oasis, although this one had a few more frills and lace. It was cute how much Angela preferred such style. It suited her nicely, and Fareeha preferred her to look like a modern princess. The sigh, however, was a little concerning.

'What's wrong?'

'I didn't expect to go "clubbing", really. This is my first experience, if I'm to be earnest. I feel much too old for the extracurricular activity. My wardrobe doesn't lend itself well to the act either. I'm twenty years her senior. Seeing girls like DVa truly reminds me of my age.'

Fareeha tried not to laugh. For someone who was so giving and selfless, Angela got hung up on strange things at the same time. She walked over to the woman, not minding the sight of her in her simple but cute white underwear, her hair still damp from the shower she had taken to clean off the ocean. She wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, holding her hips and restraining the immediate desire that purred in her body when Angela consciously pushed her backside in between her legs just ever so.

'Go like that. You'll fit right in.' Fareeha joked.

'Have you seen what young women wear at times these days? I can only imagine what the club will be like when mating rituals are in their infant and most intense state.'

Fareeha laughed, squeezing Angela tightly.

'Did you bring that black sweater? The one which hangs off your one shoulder?'

'Well, yes…'

'That would work. It's still sexy while also being reserved and womanly as well. A pair of tight jeans so I can stare at your ass when I get bored would work as well.'

Angela howled at this, losing any and all composure she regularly equipped so elegantly.

'You dog!' She punched Fareeha playfully. 'Such crude language! Hahah! Rather unexpected! I suppose that's what makes it so funny!'

'Heh. I'm glad I can make you smile like that. Although I usually don't say it outwardly, I wasn't exactly lying either.'

'Oh, I know.' Angela turned, putting her arms around Fareeha's neck and looking up at her, her eyes full of affection, which embarrassed Fareeha a little, for she still didn't feel worthy. 'I am always taking in your beauty in every way. You have a particularly lovely chest, I must say. Firm and bountiful. Your bikini was especially distracting at the beach.'

'Then you understand the frustration I felt at the sight of that ridiculous red swimsuit failing to conceal the curves peeking out the sides of it, hmm?'

'Heheh! Lena said you would enjoy that. She says I have a "bloody great a-ass"…Ahem.'

Fareeha took advantage of the statement, gripping Angela's cheeks and instantly regretting it, for her whole body was on alert, expecting more to follow yet not aware it wasn't to be just yet.

'She's not wrong.' Fareeha kissed Angela, lingering on her lips. 'But she likely said it without hesitation.'

'…I don't prefer to swear.'

'Obviously.' Fareeha knew it was futile, and the fact she could sense Angela actively trying to calm herself was enough. 'Don't drink too much tonight.' She asked, and Angela nodded slowly, sighing in frustration. 'I want to make love to you when we return. I've wished to since we landed.'

'Today has been torture…' Angela agreed, and it was nice.

'Then let's enjoy ourselves tonight knowing what we can look forward to.'

'Affirmative.' Angela paused, but went on a second later. 'Fareeha…?'

'Hm?'

'…N-nothing. Let's finish getting ready.'

* * *

Fareeha had been to her fair share of "night clubs" in her early days of the army. She had met a few men there. She and Josiah had become close enough to start "dating" in such a place. Looking back, he likely never wanted to "date" Fareeha. No. He simply wanted to get her in bed. How foolish she was back then. It was frustrating to think about.

Still, Angela was terribly cute the way she stayed a little closer to Fareeha than usual, practically holding her arm in tentative apprehension. She was utterly out of her element, and it showed. Granted, the sheer youth that occupied the space around them threw Fareeha off a slight amount as well, and she wasn't _that_ much older than them. Her life experience, perhaps, was a world apart, however.

Eventually, Fareeha and Angela made it into Output Busan, the blaring music, flickering lights, and mass amount of people a maze requiring navigation. They traversed to the bar, and waited a solid ten minutes before they could finally order something and ask where the V.I.P. lounge was. The bartender hardly looked convinced, but indicated the upper level regardless, expertly putting together a Strawberry Daiquiri for Angela, and a shot of rum for Fareeha. She downed the burning liquid with a flick of her head, and guided Angela to some stairs, bumping shoulders with nearly every person in the club she passed as she did so.

The music was, for lack of a better word, somewhat obnoxious, in Fareeha's opinion, full of electronic noises that barely held onto a consistent rhythm. She wasn't really a fan of any of this, and prayed Angela's meeting with DVa was worth the trouble. Dancing with Angela appealed to her a little bit, but the more romantic or traditional opportunity in Oasis made more sense to the Egyptian. There was something to be said about the nearly erotic way many of the dancers (primarily girls) moved their bodies to the non-existent beat, and part of Fareeha imagined it would be somewhat interesting to try such a thing with Angela, but she would never go for the act, surely. Angela was likely even more overwhelmed considering her lack of experience.

'This is a very yummy drink! Rather strong. One must be careful!' Angela had to practically scream into Fareeha's ear, and the flashing lights continued to disorient her. Fortunately, they made it to what appeared to be a gated off area, and a couple of large Korean men clearly guarded the space, shuffling in close at Fareeha and Angela's approach.

'We were invited.' Fareeha presented the slips, and not another word was exchanged. They were given immediate access.

'Infiltration successful.' Angela giggled.

Fareeha blinked away the fog hitting her brain. It was only one shot. How could she possibly be feeling it already? Angela mentioned her drink being strong. Did Korea's beverages contain more alcohol than either of them were used to, or was the atmosphere of the place proving influential as well?

The music wasn't _quite_ as loud, but still had enough volume to practically shake the floor. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find DVa, for she was at the centre of attention, dancing about with another girl in the middle of a private space for perhaps thirty or so special individuals. Many of the males hung around the exclusive bar or the multitude of couches meant for lounging. There was even an area around behind the bar that had dim lighting and private sectors seemingly. It was all very foreign, and Fareeha felt instantly out of her element entirely.

'Oh! Oh! Is this them? Is this them?' A young man jumped from his seat, a colourful drink in his hand. DVa and the girl she was dancing with stopped as well, practically running to Fareeha and Angela.

'Hiya! So glad you could make it! Yay!' DVa clapped her hands together, swooning a little and tipping her head to the side cutely. Her stomach was almost completely exposed, a loose tank-top with what appeared to be a pink bunny covering most of her outfit. Her shorts were tight and small, with thigh-highs covering more than three quarter's-worth of her legs, colourful stars sprinkling the oddly distracting clothing. She had her hair tied into a side ponytail, and it worked excessively well.

'Greetings to you all! I believe I recognize you to be many of the Meka pilots, correct?'

'Ooo! Good memory! Heheh! I'll introduce you! This is Seung-Hwa a.k.a. Overlord.'

'Hi! So happy to meet you!' The boy that had spotted Angela and Fareeha first bowed.

'This one's Kyung-Soo, or King, as he loves to be called.'

'Well, there always needs to be one.' Another male adjusted his glasses, seeming quite confident in himself.

'Jae-Eun a.k.a. Casino is _way_ too cool to get up from over there to say "hi", the jerk.'

Fareeha nodded to the young man regardless, his disinterest coming across as slightly arrogant.

'And _this_ is _my_ girlfriend! Heheh! Yuna! Or DMon! Isn't she the cutest?' DVa squeezed the girl she had been dancing with, giving her a dramatic kiss on the cheek before the particularly sharp-featured girl pushed her away, sighing dramatically.

'We are _not_ going out. Do you realize how ridiculous that would be?'

'Aw! But we'd be so precious together, don't you think? Our names even match! They'd call us "DVamon"! Heheh!'

'Someone's had too much to drink. Unbelievable.'

'Oh! Right! You still got a crush on Dae-Hyun? Is that it?'

'…I'll actually kill you.' The girl hissed.

'What's that?' The handsome lad Fareeha had seen at the signing stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Anyway, hey! I'm Dae-Hyun, Hana's mechanic and childhood friend. You're the famous Angela Ziegler, right?'

'Indeed, I am!'

'Wow! You're…you're so young!'

'Nanomachines, isn't it?' Kyung-Soo relayed intelligently.

'It's not polite to pry into a woman's secrets, Mr. King.' Angela put a finger to her lips, and the composed boy crumbled a bit in the face of such experienced charm.

'I've read some of your work. It's really something. Can't get my head around it completely, but it's pretty obvious you're cut from a rare piece of cloth.' Dae-Hyun continued.

'Why thank-you! Now, allow me to introduce you to _my_ friend, Fareeha Amari.' Angela indicated Fareeha, and she waved awkwardly, standing taller than all the individuals present save for Dae-Hyun. 'Be forewarned, however, that she is quite taken by this doctor before you, so, hands off, everyone!'

'Oh!' Overlord smacked his fist into his other hand. 'Together, huh? Still don't see a lot of that around here in public. That's impressive!'

'Heh. Progressive, even.' King had recovered.

'See, Yuna? Our forbidden love can finally be revealed! Heheh!' DVa hung onto the seemingly miserable young woman.

'Stop it.' DMon pushed at her face gently.

'In any case, thank-you for having us. This is quite the party!' Angela looked around again, possibly taking it all in one more time.

'Right!? My favourite club! Drinks are free up here, too! Have one! Have one!'

'Ah. I'm still working on this delicious concoction.'

'Have one when you're done!'

'Maybe I will!'

Now that Fareeha and Angela had met up with DVa again, their was much more comfort in their current setting. She was excessively welcoming, and her fellow pilots shared her enthusiasm in their own ways. The other individuals in the area were friends and acquaintances, all treating Fareeha and Angela well, to the best of their abilities. Eventually, DVa had enough of the idle chitchat, and returned to dancing, dragging DMon along with her, many of the ladies and a few of the males enjoying the constant music and flickering lights. Fareeha had one more shot of rum to numb her nerves, and finally she saw herself upon the floor as well, wondering if Angela had any interest.

'How many fingers?' Angela waved at Fareeha, a momentary reprieve from others found between the two women.

'Three.' Fareeha grabbed at the hand, holding it tightly.

'Good girl. Let's not forget our promise, shall we?'

Fareeha's head swayed a little, but she regained her composure, tugging at Angela's limb.

'Dance with me?'

'H-here? To this music? I'm not so certain, Fareeha…'

'They all love you. What's there to be afraid of?'

'I'm nearly double their age…'

'What does it matter?' Fareeha stood, taking hold of Angela's other hand. 'Dance with me.'

Angela downed the rest of her second Strawberry Daiquiri, glancing away and biting at her lip nervously.

'I truly don't know how…'

But she arose from her seat, and the moment Hana, Yuna, and even Jae-Eun (who moved theatrically, hilariously serious all the while) saw her and Fareeha, they cheered happily, and the night melted before Fareeha's eyes. Angela started with something of a hustle, and it made all the females present swoon with adoration, but soon she loosened up enough, and was dancing closely with Fareeha, their bodies rubbing together here and there, the contact enough to drive the younger woman wild. They both showed the amount of restraint necessary for a public event, but at one point during a particularly intense track, Angela kissed Fareeha, and the interaction lasted a beat longer than perhaps it should have, for when they finally broke apart, Fareeha caught a number of individuals observing the exchange, a grand mixture of reactions on prominent display. It was the reality of their relationship, primarily in a country that was slow to even consider adapting to such love, and Fareeha was thankful for being influenced to her current buzz, otherwise, she may have been bothered more.

Still, the kiss didn't have any damning effects, and Fareeha didn't remember sitting with DVa and Angela behind the bar, an animated conversation occurring between her lady and South Korea's favourite celebrity. The words jumbled into one another, and Angela surprisingly had a strong command of the topic at hand, finally bringing DVa to a decision that Fareeha understood very clearly amidst her foggy vision.

'Okay. If I ever take down the Gwishin for good, I'll join Overwatch. Deal!'

'Shall we shake on it?'

'I'm totally adding you to my phone!'

'O-oh. Alright, then.'

She was in a taxi next. They were back at their room. Fareeha blinked away the black specks before her eyes, and Angela was laughing, searching through her suitcase, her words beginning to ring clear now that the constant thumping and chatter was gone.

'They don't skimp on the drinks around here, do they?'

'No…'

'Are you well?'

Fareeha breathed out, downing almost a whole bottle of water.

'Yes. The club itself seemed to have a dulling effect on me.'

'Not your dancing. You were rather sexy…'

'I…hope so. I don't really recall.'

'I overhead a number of reviews. Many of Hana's friends thought you to be very attractive and fun.'

'Good…'

'And I convinced DVa to help our fight if she ever wins hers. It was a fair compromise.'

Fareeha nodded, looking to Angela, the woman extracting a small box from her luggage and bringing it over to the bed Fareeha currently occupied.

'What's that?'

'Before I answer, are you in any condition to follow through with your proclamation from earlier in the day?'

Fareeha touched Angela's bare shoulder, the second the contact was made her skin beginning to prickle.

'Without a doubt.'

'Good.' Angela leaned over, kissing Fareeha's neck and reaching into her shirt so she could rub her stomach. It was bewildering how immediately Fareeha was aroused, her whole body heating up and wanting more. The alcohol made her greedy, and she was quick to remove Angela's cute sweater, taking charge of the situation and flipping the smaller woman onto the bed, moving over her body with her tongue and unclipping the strapless bra so that she could see the doctor's pretty chest, the soft-pink centres hard to Fareeha's touch and mouth.

'A-ah…! Fareeha…I was…trying to…' Angela whimpered, evidently as frustrated as Fareeha, for when the younger girl removed her jeans, she couldn't hesitate stripping Angela's damp underwear to her ankles either, her body practically twitching with longing, glimmering invitingly.

' _God…!_ ' Angela gasped in German as soon as Fareeha kissed between her legs, pushing her hands up over her body and caressing the lovely mounds of flesh in her grip.

'W-wait…Wait, Fareeha!' Angela sounded serious, and Fareeha found herself sobering up at the strange sense of urgency.

'Yes…?'

'I…had an…extensive conversation with Lena shortly before this trip and…well, it led to an intriguing gift from her.'

Fareeha glanced back to the tiny box.

'Correct. Open it. But…be aware that I won't be offended if you do not wish to make use of it. I just thought…it could be special in a bizarre way, yes? I…want to give you my first time…in all sense of the word. I want it to be you.'

Fareeha could fathom a guess, and when she gingerly did as she was told, she wasn't wrong. Her initial reaction was anxiety, but then images began flickering through her brain, and her lingering loss of inhibitions allowed her to handle the strangely organic piece.

'It's one of the newest. Connects to the nerves, as it were. A breakthrough in the industry, so it goes. Could you imagine being the test subjects for such experiments? Heheh…'

'It's…large.' Fareeha observed the extension.

'If you move slow I should be fine. We hardly need to be concerned about lubrication, after all.'

Fareeha couldn't say she didn't have her apprehensions. It felt like a denial of who she was, yet, at the same time, it was uncanny and exciting. Angela wanted this. Fareeha had felt inadequate for being incapable of providing her with such an experience. A happy resolution. An erotic possibility. The more Fareeha thought about it, the more natural it felt. Yes. She wanted to take Angela. She wanted to be with her in a way only a man could. This inferiority…didn't have to remain.

'Very well.'

'R-really…?'

'Yes. But I hope you're ready, because I was barely holding back as it was before.'

'I gave it serious thought. I want no other but you.'

Angela crawled to Fareeha then, stripping her naked and kissing her all over as she did so. She handled the gift from Lena awkwardly, and it was somehow even more arousing. She helped Fareeha equip the piece, and it was one of the strangest sensations the Egyptian had ever encountered. To think resources, time, and money went into manufacturing something so advanced. Angela took hold of Fareeha and stroked her loosely, and she nearly buckled over, breathing out harshly.

'My…! I wonder if my research contributed to this development.' Angela jested. 'You can truly feel that? They must have it connected through your cl – pardon me. My ever-intrusive scientific rambling.'

'H-hah…hah…' Fareeha groaned, her stomach tightened and mind abuzz with misunderstanding and reconfiguration.

'Truly incredible…' Angela was staring, and Fareeha sucked in air desperately, her face burning with embarrassment. What was she even doing?

'Now, I understand this is an appropriate way to prepare for both parties.' Angela went to her knees, still slowly moving her hands over the addition to Fareeha's body. 'I fear my research may do little for actual preparation, so, forgive me.'

Fareeha wasn't entirely certain she comprehended what Angela meant, but then the warmth came over her, Angela's lips nervously wrapping about her person, progressively going deeper and deeper, the sight was too much. The way her body reacted overwhelmed her. Fareeha held onto Angela's head, seeing the world through a blurred vision, the doctor's confidence gaining and her technique harnessed as time went forward.

'Ung…Oh…A-Angela…'

Angela looked up, and Fareeha's whole body twitched. It was hard to turn away. Forward and back she went, one hand twisting about in conjunction with the suction she created while her other was trembling between her legs. The way her back curved. Her bottom jetted out. Her mouth formed as needed. Fareeha could feel her stomach losing control. Something was coursing through her system, and it was a tingling reaction like nothing before it.

'S-stop…Stop, Angela…' Fareeha pulled away, her lady's saliva caked on the foreign part that felt more comfortable than it should have.

'Was I…inadequate?' Angela seemed honestly concerned, and Fareeha shook her head, redirecting her focus away from the need to touch herself. To finish the job. To push whatever was filling her out if that was even possible.

'The opposite. I'm…unsure I can last. It's…too much.'

'Really? What a successful little object.'

Fareeha closed her eyes, focusing as best she could, but all she could think about was the way Angela had performed for her. The intimacy of the act. The way the doctor had submitted in such a way. It was difficult to explain. It felt good, of course, but there was more to it than that. Much more. Angela Ziegler. Prim. Proper. Intelligent. Wise. Unattainable to all before now. She had taken Fareeha in such a way. It sent Fareeha's mind into a frenzy. It aroused her like never before. She was losing control. She wanted to know what it was like to…

Perhaps she couldn't be _that_ disgusted with Josiah. If he felt even a partial amount of what Fareeha did in this moment, she would sympathize at least a little.

'Angela…' Fareeha hummed desperately.

'I'm yours, Fareeha.' Angela opened her arms, and Fareeha scooped her up, laying her back onto the bed gently and kissing her with as much passion as she could muster. She rubbed herself between Angela's legs, pressing against her groin and near her belly. The older woman sighed loudly, clawing at Fareeha's back and swaying her torso against Fareeha, encouraging her with the movements.

Fareeha backed away for a moment, taking Angela in and looking her over in the dim lighting. Her hair was dishevelled over her blushing face, her eyes drunk with lust and her cheeks flushed. Her breasts lay flat pleasingly against her body, and her legs bent outward shyly, her hands resting against her chest, almost covering the most tantalizing bits.

Angela nodded slowly, and Fareeha was lost in a dream, holding herself as she eased in, pressing lightly and hearing Angela suck in sharply, gasping and breathing laboriously with every piece of progression made. Fareeha contained the urge to give in to her own wants, wishing to thrust in without regard, but the drawn-out process had its charms as well, and within time, Angela held her breath and Fareeha felt their bodies pressed against one another, Angela's legs gripping onto Fareeha's lower back and her hands pinching her skin. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she finally released the oxygen she had taken shakily, groaning in obvious pain.

'Q-quite…large indeed…' She whimpered, and like the activity before, the experience of being connected to Angela Ziegler like this was more than Fareeha could have possibly imagined until now. They were one. The most intimate act humanity could engage in. The most vulnerable. The most sensitive. Perfect trust enacted. The image of their first encounter in Iraq when Fareeha could see the doctor through the eyes of an adult. The beauty she longed for in that very moment.

Fareeha began moving, and the hissing between Angela's teeth persisted.

'Kiss me…' Angela begged, and Fareeha complied.

She did that and more. Fareeha cherished this moment in her life as much as she could. Angela's body clenched around her, and it was ecstasy. It was euphoric. Her glazed eyes. Her rocking body. Her gripping legs. Her clawing nails. Her trembling tongue. Fareeha held Angela Ziegler like any true lover would, and their sexual act went on until Fareeha couldn't restrain herself any longer.

'I-I'm…' Fareeha barely got the word out, her whole body tingling.

'Inside. Stay…inside…' Angela held Fareeha tight.

'B-but…what's happening…?'

Angela held her close until it was over, Fareeha incapable of doing anything but toppling over to Angela's side, a creamy, stringy substance trailing between herself and the woman she loved. The doctor reached between her legs and wiped herself up, bringing her hands to her mouth and licking the stuff with a tired hum.

'Ah…vanilla flavoured…How considerate.'

Fareeha had no words. She could barely see straight. She carefully removed the addition to her body and shuffled in close to Angela, forcing her eyes to work properly.

'Was it…okay?' She needed to know.

Angela huffed, seeming just as tired.

'I would love to discuss all of what transpired in detail, my gentle knight, but…much like yourself…I am terribly exhausted for many reasons.'

'Yeah…'

'However, I will say this, at the very least: I…I was satisfied…multiple times. Perhaps four or five times, to be exact. I dare say…you're a natural…'

This was enough for Fareeha. She smiled, and Angela smiled back. They didn't need to say it. The words moved between them with ease. They didn't think they could possibly grow closer before now. Fareeha now knew she was wrong. They could always know one another better. Everyday. For the rest of their lives. Forever.

At least…as long as they had left.

In one final act before the two women faded into serene darkness, before the country of Korea began to shake, before a monster like never before would threaten the world Hana called home, Fareeha removed her necklace, the dog tag jingling from her army days – a marker of the life she once led and an identifier on multiple levels – and handed it to Angela.

'Here. At least…accept this piece of jewellery, my princess.'

Fareeha saw the way Angela's eyes filled with water, streams of tears falling down her cheeks as she held the trinket close, sobbing uncontrollably all over again. She nodded, and curled into Fareeha, gripping her tightly. Gripping her so tightly it scared Fareeha to death.


	59. LIX: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

'Thank-you, Widowmaker.' A pause, with Jack shaking his head and letting a wry grin slip through. 'I never thought I'd be saying that anytime soon. But you saved one of our own, and Reinhardt would never talk you up unless it was true. You also helped us collect some valuable data. Winston has already locked himself in his lab trying to figure out just what we're up against here.'

'I completed the mission. Nothing less, nothing more.' Widow insisted, and Reinhardt wasn't around to contest her claim, for he was with Brigitte (once again), in the medical ward. The two of them truly made for one another. How sweet. They both would be fine with a day or so of rest.

'She won't take a compliment, Boss. Just leave it.' Lena encouraged.

'Affirmative.' Jack went to the computers nearby in the meeting room, projecting multiple screens into the space between himself, Lena, and Widow. He didn't waste time with formalities anymore. He was done pretending in that regard. Widow didn't mind. She appreciated such curtness.

'We're being stretched thin as of late. The U.N. doesn't want to go back on the Petras Act, but they can't deal with the spreading God Program issue either. Talon is only perpetuating the situation, and it's obvious they have their hands somewhere in the United Nations as well. The black omnics are our biggest problem, I would say. God Programs can be managed relatively well at this point, but pair them with a black omnic and there's trouble even we have difficulty handling.'

Various screens showcased parts of the world and threat levels associated with them. It was becoming like before, but at least humanity wasn't completely caught off guard this time. Countries had prepared decently enough, with Overwatch being used as a sort of emergency unit for God Programs getting out of control completely. Jack brought up a particularly devastated zone, somewhere in Australia, it seemed.

'This is just outside of Junkertown, and as you can see, the damage spread over a large radius. A black omnic. A single one. It took a couple of outlaws to bring it down, and apparently the amount of explosives required created this.'

Jack zoomed in on an enormous crater, tapping at the image until it was clear. Impressive.

'Bloody hell…' Lena blinked.

'Talon is obviously planning something, because this was another sort of test ground for them. Pair the black omnics with the type you brought back and that's a recipe for disaster.'

Jack hesitated, eyeing Widow cautiously and then sighing a moment later. Go ahead. Say it. Whatever "it" is, she welcomed a jab or whatever he wished to provide. Boringly enough, he stuck with the briefing.

'Angela is going to have my head, but I used whatever means available to me to get some answers from Moira. I'm through playing around, and what good is she if she doesn't talk?'

Widow's eyes widened. This man was a piece of work.

'You didn't!' Lena shouted. Of course, she did. 'That's against the law, Jack!'

'Our very existence is against the law, Lena. Mind explaining the difference?'

'Do I really have to? Jesus, Jack! Did Winston or Ana "okay" it?'

'Ana did. Winston is playing ignorant. He knows what happened. We got information. That's all I care about. If we didn't, it might have become a war we aren't equipped to handle. You can thank me later.'

'What did you learn?' Widow intervened, not interested in the moral discussion.

'Want to see what you can do against an army of black omnics? Because that's the end goal for Talon. The black substance is alien matter, and it is something like a living parasite that instigates and amplifies the God Program. We already got the U.N. to crack down on Oasis' stash of the stuff, but who knows what good that'll do with Talon likely in the damn inner workings of things. The good news is that the goop is finite in quantity. The bad news is Talon's in the midst of cloning it. Moira doesn't know where those experiments are being conducted. She purposely kept herself ignorant, aware that this exact scenario was a possibility, the madwoman. We're running out of time. We need to find this laboratory and destroy it completely. We need to wipe all data on the black ferrofluid or the world could be in for a conflict it won't recover from this time.'

'These missions are being formulated, I imagine?' Widow decided to ask out of pure curiosity.

A long, sorrowful pause.

'That's where we are at. A standstill. Winston and any of our hackers' abilities are nowhere near what we need. We're being very careful with what we tell the U.N. as well.'

'I see.'

'Seriously, Jack? Is that really it?'

'Yeah. I have some sources I'm reaching out to, but…'

Another beat.

'I…might have an idea, then.' Lena started, and Widow already knew where she was going with this "idea", because Widow herself thought of the same thing. It was ridiculously unlikely, but it was better than nothing.

'I'm listening.'

'Sombra. Talon's hacker. She wants to have a chat with Amelie and I anyway. If I can offer her enough money, we might be able to – '

'We can't give her more than Talon. I thought of that. She won't take a pay cut to help the enemy.'

'That's the thing, innit? I don't think she sees us as an enemy, right, Luv?' Lena turned to Widow, and she rolled her eyes, hating it when the younger girl made that desperate plea with her face.

'…Sombra is an enigma. I've never attempted to understand her motives.' Widow thought about the few interactions she _had_ endured regarding the erratic individual. 'However, I don't believe it is…impossible. The fact she wishes to meet with us indicates a form of desperation. She might not have a choice but to seek help in her own twisted way. Once bitten twice shy, so it goes.'

'What does that mean?' Jack sounded a little more hopeful.

'If I recall correctly, she's gotten herself into respectable trouble before due to her "hacking". History could be repeating itself.'

Widow's words hung in the air heavily, Jack tapping on a desk with deep contemplation.

'…If she's willing to meet with you both then do whatever you can to get her on our side. Her co-operation could literally mean the difference between winning and losing this fight. Understanding the flow of information and being capable of manipulating it at a whim is a power we currently lack with our present individuals. I'm trusting you both with this mission. She knows you, Widow, and you've had a strange but consistent flow of conversation with her, correct, Lena?'

'Yeah. Weirdly enough she's always kinda kept me in the loop in a not so helpful way.'

Jack finally stopped tapping his fingers and huffed in aggravation.

'Do it. As soon as possible. Where is the meeting site?'

'Not sure, really.' Lena shrugged, but Widow had other ideas.

'King's Row.' She said with conviction, her brain throbbing at the recollection of where all this started for her. Lena, naturally, was flustered at the thought.

'What do you mean, Luv? She get in touch with you or something?'

'We were going there anyway. We'll tell her where to get in touch with us. We have the power in this interaction; not her. She wants us as much as we need her. Sombra doesn't do anything unnecessarily. I promise you she's been backed into a corner. She's irritating beyond belief, but she's hardly a fool.'

'I…uh…King's Row, huh?'

'To have a discussion with this Emily woman as well, of course.' Widow grinned slyly, and Lena's expression was utterly priceless. Widow herself was due for another dose of her pills, for she could feel her nerves prickling with a dark intent, but she had to admit there was a place for Lena's goofy antics in her rehabilitation as well.

'Emily? You're still in touch with her?' Jack raised a brow, his wrinkles deepening.

'We got some stuff to talk about, yeah.' Lena admitted.

'Well, if that works out then good. Just keep us informed. The sooner you leave the better. I wish I could give you time to rest. Hell, I would prefer Angela have another go at _you_ , Widowmaker, but I don't like what we learned. I'd rather we get this plan in action immediately. Take an aircraft that can work efficiently in autopilot. I'll get in touch with some agents in the area and send you the final details regarding the mission. Rest while you travel. Otherwise, can I ask you to be ready within two hours?'

'Two hours!?' Lena snapped her head back in shock.

'So be it.' Widow agreed. This irritation was annoying. The sooner she dealt with it the better.

'Aw, rubbish…'

'I'm sorry.' Jack apologized, to Widow's surprise. 'My instincts are telling me this is a pivotal moment. I'm trusting you, Lena.' He paused, meeting Widow's intense gaze. 'And…you, Amelie.'

She didn't suspect such a form of recognition from this man would mean anything to her, yet her stomach turned painfully, and images of Gerard punctured her mind like white-hot needles.

'Hmph.' Widow turned, walking away with disinterest, but running with all her might inwardly.

* * *

'Tell me your conversation; word for word.' Widow heard the shower start, Lena's uniform draped across the couch and her chronal accelerator glowing on a chair near the washroom.

'I can't promise it'll be word for word, Luv.' Lena chuckled.

'Fine. As best as you can manage.'

'Right. I said we'd talk, huh? Guess it's only fair.'

Widow waited, having changed into a tiny pair of black shorts and a matching t-shirt. It was nice to let her body breathe before the next mission. The mission that would commence sooner rather than later. The mission she had helped initiate for some insane reason.

'The long and short of it is she wants to get back together. We went our own ways when I got the call from Winston. Well…I went my own way. She let me do it because she's a good gal. Me? Not so much. Kinda selfish, really, and she called me out on it, sayin' I have trouble being alone.'

Widow listened carefully. It was extremely rare for Lena to be so personal. Yes, she talked a lot; perhaps too much. But Widow could count how many times she got into her core concerns and view of the world. She was much more guarded than she let on. It was somewhat fascinating.

'Is she correct?'

Only the shower could be heard, and that was fine for the time needed.

'…She isn't wrong, I think. Didn't know it myself, really. Not a very good girlfriend, am I? Couldn't stand the thought of not being loved? Figured I could woo _someone_ into being with me while I worked? Jesus. Look too deep and it's…ugly. Real ugly. Bloody mess. Oh, Emily…what did you even see in me?'

Widow chewed on her lip, anger boiling inside her instinctually.

'I'm here because of you…Lena.'

'Heh…' Lena laughed, something of a small sob slipping through. 'Guess that's something…'

'It's a great deal, as far as I'm concerned.' Widow went on, her throat tightening. 'You're a…a hero. Truly. I've seen it.'

'Thanks, Luv…'

'But you're also human, are you not?' Widow persisted. 'And humans all struggle with vices, as far as I recall. Gerard…was not so unlike you.' A stabbing to her heart. A fragmented memory. Something locked away yet was beginning to resurface. The fight that nearly led to a divorce. The reconciliation afterward. The child that would save their marriage. He or she would unite them forever.

Yet, his eyes continued to wander…

'It is a difficult thing…lust'

The shower stopped, but Lena wasn't moving. Widow pictured her bent over, gripping at the tap and letting the water fall over her slender form. The poor girl.

'Oi. You gotta say that nasty word?'

'It is appropriate, is it not?'

'…Sure.'

'Lena.' Widow proceeded. 'You have been a perfect gentlewoman. You do not allow your vice to completely control you. You have respected me admirably.'

'Heh. I tried…'

'But I do not believe you can ever love me; nor I you.' Widow let the statement fall over the apartment, the syllables blanketing the dimly-lit area as they sunk into everything. Lena stepped out of the washroom then, a towel around her body, a small, pretty little crevice formed in the middle of her chest where the material squeezed her together.

'That a fact?' She said with restrained frustration.

'You "lust" me, Lena.'

'I care about you.'

'You desire me.'

'I _like_ being with you.'

'You want to make love to me right this moment. You want to hide from the truth. Your vice is your comfort. Your love is unnatural. It shall always be. Your emotions…make you ever so vulnerable.'

'You kissed me.'

'Indeed.'

'You let me kiss _you_. Everywhere.'

'I…am also human, I suppose. I…am also lonely. It was beneficial to us both. But only to that extent. Can you truly – honestly – imagine us "dating"? Getting married?'

' _Maybe_!'

'No.' Widow smiled distantly. 'You cannot. Now, could you imagine the same things with Emily?'

'Obviously. We _did_ date. And it's not as "unnatural" as you think. Just two people loving one another. What's the big deal? Why are you so hung up on what's "proper", huh? You ever orgasm like that with Gerard? You ever _feel_ like that with him?'

More weight, and Widow breathed out slowly, closing her thoughts off. Knowing it was the safest course of action. It was the only way. It was the best way.

'…Do not say another word about him, Lena Oxton. You are crossing a line, and if I truly wanted to, the monkey's toy wouldn't stop me in time. Widowmaker would break you. She would. I don't want to test her, but you're treading a fine line.'

Something sparkled in Lena's eyes then, strangely enough.

'Her? She? You're…really separating yourself from the old you, huh?'

Widow crossed her arms, hiding as much of herself as she could.

'I want to move on.' She admitted out loud. 'I…want to understand myself again.'

'Fair enough.'

'Thus, I want to meet with this Emily woman. I want to finish this war and discover what kind of life I can lead now. Only when Talon is gone can I imagine a new path.'

'Right…' Lena pushed her hand through her damp hair, the way it messily hung about her endearing. The freckles around her nose always drew Widow's eye, and she turned away consciously, listening to Lena speak again. 'And I'm sorry…for talking about Gerard like that. Way outta line.'

'It was.' Widow pushed the smile down into her chest. 'Yet, you are quick to apologize…sincerely. Thanks.'

A pause, and Widow wondered if Lena perceptively caught her implication. It hurt that she may have.

'No problem, Luv.'

There was a moment that didn't elude Widow. A look that was exchanged after such raw honesty was passed between two souls. Widow stood up, tread through the water of her world, and thought Lena was going to grab her wrist, stopping her from proceeding into the shower herself.

Lena didn't do a thing. She let her go. And it was perplexing how juxtaposed a singular woman could be.

* * *

Both Lena and Widow took the time they needed while flying to King's Row to rest as necessary. Emily and Sombra had been contacted appropriately, and although Lena hadn't elaborated on Emily's reaction to meeting Widow, her face spoke volumes, indicating her ex thought the idea was likely a little crazy, but tolerated it because of the desire to at least see Lena. Sombra, on the other hand, feigned resistance, yet eventually succumbed to Lena's proposal, solidifying Widow's evaluation of her mannerisms as of late.

Not many words were exchanged on the trip. Both women were rightfully exhausted, and sleep was a precious commodity. It made for a quick transition from Overwatch Gibraltar to King's Row, and once the aircraft landed and the doors were being knocked upon by the agents Jack Morrison had personally contacted, Widow snapped awake, startled by how deeply she had been asleep. Lena was already changing into a different outfit, a white tank-top beneath her chronal accelerator as she equipped a brown bomber jacket. She allowed entrance to the fellow agents, masterfully connecting with them and humouring their excitement at her return to grace.

Widow threw on a classy, dark purple trench-coat over her plainer, black ensemble, and soon stepped out of the transporter, feeling the eyes of the men that were receiving herself and Lena. It was late evening by this point, and the turquoise-hued lighting of King's Row welcomed Widow, poking at her memories and the ecstasy she had experienced not so far from this very location, where a statue had been erected in recognition of the world's loss by her crazed hand.

'Thanks, Luvs! We'll be on our way, then!' Lena waved, Widow staying close to her as they moved through the back alleys of King's Row. Widow hadn't noticed before, but this old part of the city was littered with graffiti and remnants of hate toward the omnics. For some reason, it unsettled her, and she didn't revel in being forced into hiding considering her current reputation in such an area.

'Sorry, Luv. Gotta be a bit sneaky. Don't want any nasty attention, right? I've taken these routes to Emily's before. No worries. It looks worse than it is. Besides,' Lena winked, as if reading Widow's thoughts. 'It'd take quite the thug to give us trouble, don't you think?'

That was true. Somehow, her own capabilities had ceased to exist. Was it because of the coat she had bought herself that brought her back to being simply Amelie? Was it because of the comfort she felt beside Lena; a comfort she undeniably experienced next to Gerard anytime they moved about Paris on their own? No matter. A strange absence of the mind. Nothing more.

Lena took Widow's hand regardless, and she flinched, both of them stopping.

'I'm still your friend, Amelie. You seem a little off. This place is kinda important to us, innit? Might stir up some ideas? Just want you to remember who we are as a team and all that. No moves. Just innocent affection. Sound good?'

'Holding me as we go to visit the woman you truly love? Rather twisted…'

'It isn't like that and you know it.'

Widow did. So, why insist on pushing? She didn't grip Lena back, but she didn't force herself away either.

They eventually entered a slightly nicer part of the city, just on the cusp of the old, tourist sector, and Lena let herself and Widow into an apartment, calling up to Emily and waiting for a response. Widow released her hand from Lena, then, her breaths issuing a little shorter despite her insistence on maintaining an intimidating amount of confidence, and her palms hot.

"Lena?"

'How the heck do you do that, Luv?' Lena giggled. Her tone. Her eyes. Her posture. Everything changed. Did she even realize it herself? Likely not. Widow watched the young woman transform, and she remembered to breathe.

"Well, I knew you were coming, and the timing's right, innit?" A beat. "Amelie? Are you there, too?"

Lena motioned for Widow to step in next to her. Thus, she did so, the sounds muffling around her as her chest pounded.

'Yes.' She managed.

"Hey. Nice to…um…hear you? I'll unlock the doors so we can meet, okay?"

'Thanks, Luv!'

'Thank-you…'

If she was to be honest with herself, Emily seemed sweet. Very sweet. Comforting even.

'I forgot to mention something, Amelie.' Lena spoke lowly as they took an elevator up fairly high. 'And it's kinda important, I guess. It shows a bit about Emily's character.'

'You're telling me this now?' Widow rolled her eyes, shifting her weight back and forth.

'It's just…I wasn't sure whether I should say it, but I'm deciding right now I better.' The doors slid open. They were in a hallway now. It smelled odd. Leave it to apartments, where all kinds of folk could reside that would never step near one another otherwise.

'Get on with it.'

'I would never do it, but Emily basically said I could fool around as much as I want so long as I don't fall in love and come back to her after everything's over. Bloody daft, innit?'

Widow's eye twitched. Lena was right. This revealed a great deal about Emily. The question was: how did Amelie feel about it? She only had a basic reply for Lena in the moment.

'…She understands you astronomically well. Understands and is beyond in love with you.'

'Yeah…' Lena appeared in pain, but Widow wouldn't observe her further. It was dangerous.

Emily's door was knocked upon, three quick taps, and she was there in another second, perhaps standing by the obstruct and waiting for the girl she loved. So clearly loved. Did Widow even know what that word meant? She thought she did. She had been married, correct? She had told Gerard she loved him many times. They were to have a child together. They spent years in the same bed, _making_ "love". Surely it wasn't such a foreign concept.

Yet, when Emily was revealed, and when her eyes landed on Lena, all understanding of what Widow knew to be "love" was called into question. The girl's pretty, chocolate-coloured eyes became brighter than any star Widow had bothered to notice. She likely wanted to restrain the smile that encapsulated her entire visage, but that was a complete failure. She flinched, surely wishing to hold and kiss Lena, but preventing herself for many a complicated reason. If they were just friends, a hug would be fine, but between ex-lovers, the act carried so much more weight. Widow observed this brief exchange with extreme interest, something in her heart twitching with jealousy, but not the kind that indicated possessiveness of Lena Oxton.

'Heya, Lena!' She waved daintily, her red hair gorgeous; truly aflame with beauty and maintained pleasingly. She had more freckles decorating her face than Lena, and the red sweater that hung over her equally peppered shoulder leant itself to both a sensual yet classy method of seduction.

'Hey, Luv!'

'And…Amelie? Our names are a bit similar, aren't they?' She addressed Widow, extending a hand, somehow calmly accepting the woman who could potentially ruin her life as far as she was concerned.

Widow took the greeting, gripping Emily tightly, not with ill-intent but desperation. With intrigue. With envy.

'Somewhat, although it is pronounced _Amelie_ in French, which makes for a more notable difference.'

'Oh! Your skin is cold! Lena mentioned you had some…procedures done by Talon? Are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything? I can only imagine what you've been through. I'm so sorry.'

She was like Lena. Sincere. Not an ounce of manipulation behind her words. Obvious worry over what would happen this evening, naturally. Rightly so. Her future depended on what transpired within the next couple of hours. Widow knew what that could be like. It was terrifying. Yet, she concerned herself over Widow. The _other_ woman, she supposed. The character usually hated and chastised in Widow's programs. However, this wasn't a fictional tale. No. This was playing out much more differently than any episode Widow had enjoyed.

Widow let go of Emily, blinking as their eyes met in a strange, silent conversation neither could comprehend.

This was much more complicated. Much more difficult. Much more…unconventional.

'Please, come in.' Emily displayed her apartment, the space neat, organized, and telling of the woman who lived there. The first thing Widow noticed were the shelves of books lining an entire wall. The second were abstract pictures framed with an artistic eye. They seemed to be chaotic blotches of paint, but upon further inspection, they held some sort of uncanny relevance to emotions Widow didn't fully understand quite yet. The third most notable detail was a green scarf that was wrapped about a small vase that had a dried white rose in it on the dining room table, glasses and a laptop nearby.

'Emily's a freelance editor, agent, and writer. That's why she's got the totally daft collection of books.' Lena took off her shoes, sounding proud as she spoke.

'When I can get work, yeah. Between the three I manage to get by.' The girl shrugged, and Widow wished to browse her collection further, or stare at the paintings, or even look at the obviously valuable scarf oddly displayed on the table. But she was a guest, and not necessarily a welcomed one…or so she thought? This scenario was much different than she had anticipated. These feelings were far more puzzling.

'Anyway, have a seat. Relax. You're both just off from a mission, right? Got another lined up after this at some point?'

'Yeah, but no rush. _That_ job doesn't start for a while since the person we're meeting up with has a little further to travel to get here. No worries, Luv.'

Widow and Lena went to the living room's couch, an enormous window nearby with the curtains drawn open a little oddly despite it being dark out.

'Oh. Sorry. You can close those if you want. I just…um…like looking out at the city lights at night, I guess. It's pretty, innit?'

'We better, just in case.' Lena did so, likely concerned about Talon spies or any such nonsense.

Widow noticed a small bowel of cookies and other baked treats on the coffee table before them, and watched as Lena ate one whole.

'Did you make these?' Widow asked.

'Me? Hahah! No, no. I'm an awful cook. I can barely do a decent grilled cheese sandwich. Even Lena's better than me.'

'Hey!' Lena yelled.

'Coffee or tea, Amelie?'

'Tea…'

'Coming right up. Already have the water boiled.'

What on earth was happening? Widow expected antagonism. Yelling. Accusations. Hate. She would finally have her answer and be released from such frustrating thoughts, yet this wasn't how she envisioned anything. Now, she was only _more_ confused. More anxious. More unsure of _what_ she wanted. There was such warmth in this apartment. Such comfort. Such acceptance. Who _was_ this woman?

'You alright?' Lena mumbled.

'No.' Widow answered honestly.

'So…um…this is kinda weird, innit?' Emily stepped away from the kitchen, drinks on a tray. She had slender features overall, but her chest was noticeably somewhat bountiful even hidden in her loose sweater. Her hips were wide, but her legs thin, the black, tight pants almost drawing attention to how tiny her frame was.

'Heh. A little.' Lena agreed.

'But I'm glad you both came. It's more than I was expecting.' She paused, blowing on her drink, the mug decorated with a cute little saying and cartoony yet not overly childish glasses. "Reading is Sexy". Lena _must've_ purchased the cup for her. 'And you're bloody gorgeous. Do you know that?'

Widow flinched back, genuinely thrown by the sudden compliment. Her cheeks flushed.

'I-I've been told…'

'By this one, more than likely.' Emily nodded to Lena, who grinned shamefully.

'Well, she is!'

'Obviously.' Emily sighed, but had a dimple in her cheek still. 'So, I guess there's no reason to delay things, is there? How do you feel about this troublemaker?'

Widow found herself surprised again. This woman didn't beat about the bush. It was refreshing. It was appreciated. Despite the welcomed hospitality, she wouldn't waste time. Good for her. She deserved an answer sooner rather than later.

'She…saved my life.' Widow answered slowly, and Emily nodded.

'She has a bad habit of doing that.' She joked.

'I was living in darkness.' Widow would be just as honest. No holding back. 'Talon made me a weapon. Made me kill my husband. Made me watch my unborn child be ripped from my stomach and mutilated in a steel bucket. Treated me like an object of destruction. Made me think that's all I could ever be. Numbed me into oblivion. Made me hate everyone. Hate everything. Hate myself.'

Why was she saying all this? It wasn't the script she had prepared. Why was the apartment blurring? Why was Emily making that face? Why were her hands touching Widow's? Why was she crouched in front of her? What was any of this?

'I…I-I hated her. I hated her but was drawn to her. I pushed her away but she wouldn't let me go.'

'Lena heard your cry for help, didn't she?' Emily's eyes were watering as well. 'Another bad habit. A hero to her very core, this one.'

'She…has become…' Widow swallowed, shivering in disbelief of how rapidly this interaction had developed and fallen out of her control. 'Very special…to me.'

'Of course.' Emily answered calmly, and this only made Widow more upset. 'I doubt too many other people could have possibly pulled you out from where Talon put you.'

'Y-yes…' Widow acknowledged.

'You fell in love again.' Emily nearly suggested, but mostly stated.

'No.' Widow denied immediately.

'…Okay. You didn't fall in love. But you care about her.'

'Perhaps.' She couldn't deny that much.

'Enough to give in to her obvious but restrained desires.'

'Once.' Widow grimaced, guilt causing her veins to pulsate coldly. To her surprise, she followed up the declaration with a cracked voice. 'I'm sorry…'

'Why are you sorry?' Emily raised a brow, her face distractingly attractive in a conventional way.

'Because…I now know how much you love her.'

This gave Emily pause. She glanced to Lena, who was respectfully staying quiet and likely nervous about this entire exchange, and then smiled distantly, meeting Widow's eyes again.

'We aren't dating anymore. You did nothing wrong. No need to apologize.'

'But…' Widow shook her head.

'You're a human again, Amelie. You have needs like the rest of us. After what you've been through you deserve to _feel_ again. Lena was a safe outlet. She still is. She'll take care of you in that regard; believe me, I bloody hell know it. She's an amazing lover.'

Widow bit at her lip, doing everything in her power to control her emotions.

'How?' She started, her tone higher than normal. 'How can you possibly be so calm and…and rational? How, when you love her so much it's forcing my perception of the word into question? You should spite me. You should hate me.'

'Because I understand the human mind and heart a little better than most. Maybe it's because of all the reading I do, or editing, or writing, but I can see things from a whole bunch of angles at once. I can put myself in another person's shoes pretty easily and get what's going on. I can sympathize way better than I probably should most of the time.'

'I swear she should've gone into psychology. Girl can get a hold of things, like, way too fast.' Lena piped in at last. 'Can be a bit troublesome.'

'No lying around me.' Emily stared at Widow, almost as though she were accusing her of doing so. 'And I know none of this is a line. I could tell the situation was tough. I'm glad we're able to talk like this. It's better than letting my imagination fill in the blanks.'

'Right!?' Lena chuckled a bit.

'It's not like I'm _not_ a little upset, don't get me wrong. Lena brings in a bloody model and I'm supposed to try and compete with that? Grand. If I was to be completely selfish I would fight for her like a fool, but that would only push Lena away. I know that. So, I'm playing the nice girl part and trying to _understand_ you before getting all crazy. You know, the way us redheads can be?'

'Your hair is _magnificent_.' Widow heard herself saying.

'Oh.' Emily blushed, tucking some of it behind her left ear. 'Thanks. Wasn't…um…expecting that. Are we supposed to get along though?'

'I am not vying for Lena's affection.' Widow found her pace again, leveling her feelings as she liked them to be. 'Certainly not after what I've seen here tonight. This visit has served its purpose. If you let her go I will be extremely disappointed, Lena Oxton.'

'Amelie…'

'I believe we are finished here. _I_ am, in any case. If you both need some privacy, then let me excuse myself. I can wait in the hall.'

'That's kinda dangerous, Luv. You sorta stick out…in a lot of ways.'

'You don't have to go. This isn't a decision I want to be made right now. Lena needs to think about it. I sorta sprung it on her, after all. Not the fairest approach, but…it was getting hard.' This Emily girl showed a hint of vulnerability in that comment, and Widow couldn't stop observing her. She was a riveting human being. Speaking of which…

'May I ask you something?'

'Um…sure?'

A quick intake of air.

'Lena mentioned, on the way here, that so long as you have her heart, she may do as she pleases. Is that true?'

Emily became uncomfortable through her fidgeting at the question. She reached behind her head and scratched, fixing her sweater and glancing around before finally answering. She was flushed. Embarrassed. It was somewhat cute.

'Oi. That was sort of a private thing to say, Lena.' She glared.

'Sorry, Luv. I thought it would help her understand you better.'

'Understand how pathetic I am, maybe.'

'It's not pathetic.' Widow cut in hastily. 'Not in the slightest. Not based on what I've learned about Lena as of late. You…are a very complex woman, Emily.' Widow took in the apartment again, the intellect and maturity of its owner obvious. 'My late husband…was much like Lena in a way, I suppose.'

'Can you believe it?' Lena giggled in the way she did.

'Oh?'

'Yes. His eyes wandered constantly. It angered me. He…was with another woman, perhaps more than once, during our marriage.' It hurt to think about for so many nagging reasons. 'It nearly led to the end of our relationship. He claimed it meant nothing. I couldn't believe it. Yet…you propose this very thing? You would be fine with Lena making love to me should we both desire it?'

Emily sucked in her mouth, looking up to the ceiling as her eyes watered. She was strong emotionally, but this was a difficult conversation, and she was doing admirably, regardless.

'Lena's work…is hard. She really, really likes being…involved with someone. It's her outlet. It's just…part of who she is. She's gotten so, so much better, but I know it's trying, and taking that away from her while she's fighting her heart out…just isn't fair. We're both making compromises. Lena's better qualities far outweigh this little glitch in her motivations. I'm sure you've seen just what kind of woman she is. She's a hero in every sense of the word. She swept me off my feet. I had never thought of being with another woman, yet here this girl was, making me feel more valuable and cared for than even my own family could manage.'

'Jeez, Emily…' Lena uttered.

'But the short answer is "no". I wouldn't be fine with it. I would tolerate it knowing I'm the one she'll come back to eventually. Like you said, her heart is mine. That's all I want. It lasts much longer than any physical relationship, no matter how much I enjoy making love to her.'

'A fair answer…' Widow's shoulders slouched. She couldn't compare. The path wasn't what she anticipated, but the end result was what she wished in any case.

'And now there's you.' Emily's voice trembled. 'I can't imagine you trusting just anyone so easily anymore, especially after what you just told us.'

'I don't need or want anything like – '

'You're lying.' Emily's shimmering eyes narrowed. 'You value what you have with Lena, and she's the _only_ person in your life you've felt comfortable giving yourself over to completely. Tell me that's not true.'

Widow's mouth twitched. This woman…was troublesome. Fierce. Smart. Too observant.

'…Fine.' Widow could only answer.

'But you would never date her.' Emily persisted.

'No.'

'Huh?' Lena was trying to keep up, and for once, she might not have been able to.

'And now you respect me enough that taking me up on my offer wouldn't sit well with you at all.'

'Perhaps.' Widow shrugged, but it was too accurate.

'Jesus, Em…'

'So, the answer is simple.' Emily smiled a smile so mischievously playful Widow felt her chest flutter.

'And that would be?' What could she _possibly_ say, and how could it ever be simple considering the circumstances?

'All three of us just need to get along some. Make sense?'


	60. LX: Mercy

Mercy

She was awake. Wide awake. Her skin was prickling, and her chest was heavy. The new piece of jewellery around her neck pressed into her heart, and she gripped the tags, feeling the markings that made up Fareeha's name, rank, and I.D.

Angela slipped out of bed, blindly making her way to the washroom and using it as quietly as she could. She held her tired face in her hands, leaning over her legs even after she was done. Her cellular structure was pulsating oddly. Her whole body was reacting to something, but she couldn't know what.

Angela stealthily went outside onto the balcony of the hotel room. Fareeha was breathing so heavily she was practically snoring. She had worked hard. Worked muscles she usually didn't. Thrust into Angela with so much affection it was like the doctor was drowning. It wasn't a terrible experience. No. It was wonderful, really. Angela was already planning when they could do it again. Perhaps she could make use of the advanced piece of technology herself next? Would Fareeha allow such a thing? How interesting it would be!

The doctor stared out over the ocean, playing with her new necklace and knowing her eyes were watering. Every day hurt. Every exchange reminded her of what she had to lose. Even now she wanted to awaken Fareeha and not waste another minute without her. Her body was warning her. It had been whispering urgent messages for quite some time now. The signs were small at first; completely negligible. But more and more recently…

'Foolishness…' Angela muttered. 'I still have many years left to be with her. I simply need to avoid pushing my abilities. It isn't so difficult, is it? Ultimately, it is my decision.'

It's what she told herself.

Angela gripped the balcony's rail until her hands turned white. She gazed over the night sky and the ocean below it. The lights of Busan continued to illuminate the distant city even at this time. Life. Activity. Peace. She had to protect it all.

Goosebumps pervaded her arms and neck anew, but it wasn't overly cold, and that strange sensation that had awoken her stirred her soul again.

And then…

A loud siren began sounding over Busan, whirring ominously for a few seconds before the earth trembled, the very hotel shaking beneath Angela's feet.

'What on earth…?' Angela gasped, although she could fathom a guess. She held the balcony tighter, and now stared hard into the distant ocean, the sirens reaching an ear-piercingly loud pitch. The water concaved deep into the horizon, a mass of darkness swallowed whole prior to an eruption reaching to the stars. Another tremor and Angela was falling into Fareeha's arms.

'F-Fareeha?'

'It's the Gwishin.' Fareeha uttered lowly.

'Yes.' Angela felt Fareeha's hands on her shoulders.

As the water in the distance trickled away from the source of its disturbance, a colossal omnic remained; bigger than anything Angela had personally seen. Even Russia would be dumbfounded by this monstrosity's size.

'Hana fights such a thing…' Fareeha commented, her voice a mixture of fear and contemplation.

'They're likely assembling as we speak.'

'Then I best do the same.' Fareeha gripped the window to allow herself back in, but Angela held her fast, tugging her back.

'Are you positively mad, Fareeha Amari? Your suit cannot possibly compare to what the Meka are capable of; five of them, no less.'

'I will defend the innocent. It is my duty.'

'No. I won't allow you to. There is not a singular possible way you could benefit this fight. Not this one, Fareeha.'

" _Attention. The titanic Gwishin has surfaced once again. This is not a drill. Attention. Retreat to your assigned bunker immediately. Move calmly but swiftly. This is not a drill. Meka is being deployed. The army is providing backup. Attention. Retreat to your assigned bunker immediately. The titanic Gwishin has surfaced again…"_

Her eyes narrowed angrily, pleadingly, and Fareeha shook her head.

'I can. My suit is not so unlike a Meka's. I have this power available to me. I will not stand by and watch as others fight on my behalf while I am perfectly capable.'

'You're being a fool!' Angela shouted, her whole being screaming alongside her. 'That thing is currently the most powerful omnic this world has ever seen! There's a reason it hasn't been defeated yet. It can only be pushed back, and Hana's squad are professionals at doing so! Its increased activity only proves that it is getting stronger and learning more with every interaction. I do not permit you, as a Grandmaster and…and as the woman who loves you beyond words, to do anything but retreat to safety with me where we can help with the evacuation and those who may be injured.'

Fareeha's gaze fluctuated, and Angela knew she was playing a heavy hand, but she couldn't allow this young woman to fight this battle. It was a suicide mission for a girl in armour. The last fight had left four out of five Mekas devastated. The Gwishin was becoming too strong. Who knew what this fight would entail?

'…I'm sorry, Angela. Just as you could never turn your back on a suffering soul, I will not hide from a threat to the innocent. That isn't my justice. I will be careful. If I feel it isn't my place to be, I will make a tactical retreat. But I have to at least try.'

Fareeha wrenched her wrist free and went to her enormous suitcase, entering the password and allowing the encased Raptora armour to be revealed, cooling mist emitting from the container.

'You would place yourself in danger knowing how devastated I would be should the worst come to pass? Knowing what I endured when Gloria was lost to me?' Angela whimpered, the powerlessness of her current circumstances puncturing her from every angle.

Fareeha paused, turning back to her, her strong, dark stare glimmering as well.

'If Hana's Meka squad fails and the Gwishin makes it to Busan…nobody will be safe. If I have the power to make just the smallest difference, I must fulfill my duty.'

Had Angela ever truly been angry at Fareeha before? She couldn't recall it if she had. No. They had been nearly perfectly synchronized since first meeting. The yin to one another's yang. The missing puzzle piece in this ridiculous thing called life. However, Angela was positively fuming now, and she huffed loudly, stomping to her own suitcase and removing her Valkyrie suit.

'No, Angela. I have protection. You do not. I will not – '

'You also do not have a body that can heal itself, do you? My armour allows me to fly, for the most part, so long as you are reasonably nearby. I can provide you with increased power, encasing your rockets with a substance that amplifies their explosives effectiveness through my Caduceus Staff.'

'You'll be too vulnerable!'

'This is my compromise, Fareeha Amari! You go with me at your side or not at all! That is how I wish it…to always be! Keep the skies clear for me, and I will keep you alive! You are my one and only! I will not let you go on your own! That is _not_ how this relationship works!'

'You're being a hypocrite! I _just_ saved you from a mission that practically _killed_ you! A mission _you_ accepted willingly! Now you have an idea of how that felt! How it felt to think you were _dead_! To think that the most important person in the world to me was gone forever…!'

Angela didn't have a response for that. Anything she said wouldn't counter the claim. Thus, she simply stripped down to her underwear, and began equipping her suit, the siren and announcements returning to prominence as the earth continued to shake and the Gwishin began moving.

'Damn it, Angela! _I_ have military training! I have been in combat more times than I can count! Please!'

'This is no longer a discussion. I'm coming with you. That's all there is to it.'

Fareeha huffed, but then went quiet. She allowed her armour to snap all over her body, Torbjorn's improvements to the process incredible in realization. They didn't face one another as they dressed. Angela had won the argument, it would seem. She would fight with Fareeha. It was dangerous; she knew, but far better than any alternative. Thank goodness Fareeha had finally given in –

Something grappled Angela's neck from behind, and she gripped the armoured piece before her.

'I'm sorry. I love you too much to allow this.'

'No…!' Angela gasped. 'Fareeha…no…!'

She was a professional, after all. In seconds, Angela had no choice but to fall into darkness.

* * *

The announcements were still going. They were what brought Angela back into consciousness. The rumbling earth was the second consistency she noticed. She blinked her eyes open, pushing up from a small bed nestled in the corner of an enormous gymnasium that housed hundreds, if not thousands of individuals.

'How are you feeling, Dr, Ziegler?' A young Korean man asked in uniform. He seemed to be assigned to her specifically, which meant he likely worked for Overwatch as well.

'How long have I been here?' Angela inquired, rubbing her face. Her back hurt from where her wings had been pressing into her as she was out.

'Fareeha Amari left about ten minutes ago. She went to help defend the city. A brave woman, that one.'

Angela stood up, taking a moment to regain her balance. The man touched her shoulder gently, spotting her politely.

'My name is Jun-yung. Fareeha asked me to look after you and…make sure you didn't pursue her. I'm certain you guessed it, but I'm with you guys. This facility is fairly deep underground and built to take a beating. The Gwishin would have to obliterate all of Korea to find us.'

He was not an unattractive man. Plain, really. Some prickles around his square jaw. Kind eyes. Short, greying black hair. Tall. About the same height as Fareeha.

'Thank-you for your service, Jun-yung, but I must go. Fareeha needs me.'

Jun-yung appeared hesitant, stepping in front of Angela and putting his hands on his hips while shaking his head at the floor.

'I wouldn't be serving Overwatch proper if I allowed you to do that, Dr. Ziegler. Fareeha was right to bring you here. She can at least fight with her armour.'

'As effectively as a mosquito against a human, yes.' Angela hissed. 'Did she reveal that we are involved romantically?' The doctor pushed aggressively.

'Er…no.'

'Well, we are. Quite intimately. She is my one and only. Now, if you would be so kind, simply escort me to the exit and allow me to do what I must to save that frustratingly loyal woman.'

'I'm sorry.' He was. It was obvious. But that didn't make anything better. Not in the slightest. Fareeha was fighting. Perhaps even hurt already. How Angela needed to apologize more for putting her through something similar. She would be driven insane if she remained. She had to at least witness the battle.

'Over there.' Jun-yung pointed, multiple projected screens located throughout the facility. It's what most people were doing; watching the fight. Angela almost stumbled to the least crowded space, pushing her way through and mostly getting her wish due to her unique presence.

The Mekas were attacking with everything they had, circling and pushing forward, barraging the Gwishin with a variety of weapons. Dva's pink suit was the most impressive to watch, the way she could navigate the thing leagues above her partners. The crowd cheered when Dva dashed in, unloading nearly twenty missiles and then backing off, a shield matrix of some kind diminishing the counterfire of the Gwishin. The other Mekas supported her brilliantly, damage seemingly being done, but the movements of the colossal titan hardly slowing.

More explosions erupted near the chest plate of the Gwishin, and the cameras turned to Fareeha, her suit moving through the air and her continuous attacks having an impact, but showing no lasting signs of disruption. The commentator over the broadcast mentioned the unidentified ally, stating how she was like a Western superhero, her courage truly worth attention.

'Fareeha…' Angela covered her mouth.

" _The Gwishin's attacks are becoming more consistent within every cycle. If the Mekas can't do some lasting damage this time, Korea could be in catastrophic danger. With the help of an outsider, can we hope for a different result? Send your wishes and encouragement to our defenders! Korea, they need us!_ "

Angela turned away from the projector, and Jun-yung grabbed hold of her shoulder.

'You can't go. You see how dangerous it is?'

'Do you have a family, good sir?' Angela looked at the man directly, her eyes shimmering.

'Y-yes. A wife and daughter.'

'They are in that fight we see on the screen there. Imagine it. Please. Now, what do you do. Remain here?'

'It's not the sa – '

'It is. Precisely the same. She is all I have left. My parents…my sister…they're all gone. Lost to me. If I lose her too, well…I might as well be lost myself.'

'Dr. Ziegler…'

'I'm not being dramatic. I'm not. I promise you this. Keeping me here while the woman I care about more than any other human being on this planet potentially dies without my help is the same as killing me yourself. If I lose her, Jun-yung,' Angela's lip quivered, and she gasped as she breathed in shakily, controlling her emotions enough to go on. 'If I lose her…you might as well report my death to base, because I will be as good as gone. Do you want to be the one responsible for that?'

Jun-yung evidently weighed the scenarios, his face contorting.

'Please…' Angela gave one final shove, and he shook his head again, releasing her and turning his back.

'Follow me.'

* * *

It was frightening. Jun-yung drove Angela through Busan, and the lifeless streets were uncanny enough to unsettle her. Lights still flashed, the wind continued to blow scraps of paper and garbage about the alleys and roads, but not a single human or omnic remained. The earth shook again and again, the Gwishin's presence truly feeling closer than before.

'I can turn around.' Jun-yung offered, Haeundae Beach coming into view, and the spectacle of lights and explosions from where the battle waged causing Angela anxiety.

'Never. I could never live with myself if I abandoned her.'

'…Fair enough.'

Not another word was exchanged until Angela was stepping out of the vehicle, Jun-yung giving her a hand as she did so. It was almost hard to stand with some semblance of dignity. Effort was required with how much shaking the beach was enduring.

'Good luck.' Jun-yung saluted, his eyes hesitating one last time before he let Angela go, preparing to get back into his car.

'Thank-you. Very much.'

'You bring up my family…and what can I do?' He grinned sadly, and Angela nodded, but then was flinching back as something flew overtop of them, crashing into the earth and destroying a corner store building. A fire began, and both Jun-yung and Angela rushed to the scene. It was a blue Meka. Overlord. Seung-hwa. His head was split, blood pouring over his face as he gasped, gripping at his chest from within the shattered machine.

'Seung-hwa! Open the hatch!' Angela demanded, but the boy was barely holding himself together as it was. He was in a state of shock, naturally, and likely wasn't registering things properly anymore.

Jun-yung climbed on top of the Meka and ripped at the glass, the damage to the machine allowing him to manually crack it open enough to drag the young boy out. He was breathing erratically, all signs pointing to lung damage and a severe concussion. His body was dying. He was choking on his own blood.

'Seung-hwa! Stay with us!' Jun-yung ordered.

Overlord struggled, and Angela prepared herself, nestling in beside prior to ripping his shirt open, placing her bare hand on his chest and closing her eyes.

'Dr. Ziegler…?'

'Shh.' Angela begged, and the familiar pull took place. The soul hadn't left yet. The piece of humanity she would never understand fully remained, and thus, there was hope. Still time. The counter was far from expiring. However, her nanomachines questioned her. Her own body rebelled against the demand, finally becoming clear with its concern. She needed to fully concentrate. She needed to override the logistics she hated acknowledging.

There. A connection.

The flow linked, and she fed Seung-hwa enough to assist with the reconstruction. Just enough. Just barely enough so his internal workings wouldn't be forever compromised. It took longer than before. She used to be capable of instantaneous "resurrection". Not anymore. She had been young and foolish; drunk with power and ability. She struggled. Angela's hand shook. The nanomachines bit back at her. They didn't want to leave. They didn't want to harmonize. They had become her power and undoing.

'I'm so sorry, Fareeha…' Angela whispered, but Seung-hwa stabilized, and he was sleeping peacefully minutes later. Jun-yung whistled.

' _Unbelievable_.' He uttered. 'I heard all about it but…you brought him back from the brink of death. That's…otherworldly.'

'Yes.' Angela closed her eyes, bringing her focus to the present anew. 'At a price I thought I was willing to pay…'

The angel of Overwatch left her fellow agent dumbstruck, slowly pushing through the winds that surrounded her and the waves of earthquakes that attempted to bring her down. She walked as if upon water, a dampness lining her cheeks and reaching behind her ears. Angela gripped her staff, and her wings sprung out behind her, fragments of gold sprinkling about like a fairy had presented itself to the world.

Angela narrowed her eyes upon Fareeha in the distance, seeing her despite the darkness, and channeled all the energy and will she had left into her suit and the power she had instilled within herself.

'I will watch over you…' She promised breathlessly, exploding from her spot and launching into the air, spiraling about and switching her staff's function to amplification. She soared, drawing closer to the insane fight, and latched onto Dva first, as she was the closest.

'Whoa…!' The girl's voice exclaimed through the speaker system. 'Weapons overloading…! Heheh! Nerf _this_ , you creep!'

Angela used her momentum to lift herself even higher, slowly descending as she continued to spot Dva, the incredible pilot proving her worth again and again, damage output illustrated by the way the Gwishin lurched, its legs taking the brunt of the attack.

' _Keep on the offensive! Drop its balance! The joints at the knee! Go for the joints!_ ' Kyung-soo encouraged, and Angela switched to him, feeding his Meka power and scanning the area for who could use her next. She thought she heard Fareeha scream her name, but without the amplifiers the Mekas had, her voice was lost to the explosions and commands of the Meka pilots.

What followed was a spectacle to be had, Angela was sure. Her Caduceus Staff could only repair a machine so much, thus, she focussed on increasing the power of the weaponry, directing her enhancements on the bullets, rockets, and pulse weapons themselves prior to their launch. It was difficult to manage, but the results couldn't be denied, and Angela kept moving, refusing to be an easy target for the Gwishin, which quickly realized how pesky this newest bug had become. She flew from one Meka to another, her suit capable of that much for quite some time so long as not too far a distance was created. Her wings worked through bursts of flight, but she didn't have enough individual strength to keep flying without draining her suit completely. Angela relied on "lift", and the constant winds helped to an extent.

The Gwishin switched priorities hastily, true to its lethal nature and learning frightfully fast. It went for Angela. It needed her out of the fight. She was supporting like a madwoman, moving from Meka to Meka and carefully timing her lifts and slow descents to the point that she became nearly impossible to hit without leaving itself too open to counters from multiple angles.

Various compartments opened around the Gwishin's shoulders, and a waterfall of pulse missiles poured out of it, the act coming from desperation and immediately putting all Mekas into emergency evasive maneuvers.

' _Spread and don't stop moving!_ ' Yuna commanded, stress in her voice.

'You got it!' Dva confirmed, and the Mekas separated, leaving Angela to frantically figure out who best to latch onto. Fortunately, Fareeha swooped in and cradled the woman in her arms, bursting up high in an attempt to ward off the pursuing beams that appeared to have some semblance of homing capabilities. No words were exchanged, and Angela doubted she could have said anything if she wanted to they were moving so fast and the wind was cutting into her face so painfully.

' _It's trying to keep us away from its legs!_ ' Kyung-soo observed.

' _Feh. Then we know the job is almost done. I'm going in._ ' Jae-eun cut his communicator, knowing his teammates would be against the reckless attack.

'Idiot…!' Hana cursed.

' _I'll do what I can to support him. This is our chance. Approach it somewhat cautiously!_ ' King decided.

' _Men…_ ' Dmon groaned.

' _See? That's why you should stick with me! Heheh!_ '

' _Are you seriously saying that right now?_ '

' _Damn it…! I took a hit! Those damn pulse beams are relentless…!_ ' Casino was back online.

' _Can you still fight?_ '

' _Heh. Of course, I can._ '

Fareeha nosedived back through the clouds, spinning about as she shook off the last of the pulse attack. She steadied herself and gripped Angela even tighter as she observed the battle reaching its climax. The Meka Squad was giving it their complete and total all in one last effort, the Gwishin notably staggering as it continued to push out more missiles and energy blasts.

'We will be having a talk.' Fareeha said at last, and Angela could only nod.

'They need me.' She touched the bottom half of Fareeha's face, her chin caked in sweat.

'…Be careful.'

Angela smiled, and Fareeha brought her back to the fight. They understood one another so well in most cases. Fareeha knew well enough not to argue any further if Overwatch's Mercy was willing to go so far. She was a grown woman. She didn't need to be babied further. Angela was thankful to have such a partner. Such a lover. Such a friend.

She went back into the fray, and Fareeha did what she could as well, unloading a barrage of rockets from every venue her own suit had to offer, completely directing the attack at the singular leg upon the Gwishin that the team persisted directing all focus. Angela boosted her gallant knight, and the explosions that followed made even the Meka Squad marvel.

It seemed as though that would be it. Fareeha's ultimate attack was a sight to see, and Angela pushed midair to get closer, planning her next lift and spotting Dva preparing another expertly enacted tantrum. It was coming to a close. Victory could be seen. Cripple the omnic and entrap it in the water for the finishing blow. All of Korea's military might would rain down over the Kwishin and destroy it at last. Dva would join Overwatch. All would be well.

A hand on her chest. The tag within her armour pressed into her skin. Everything stopped.

Fareeha was looking at her, her mouth partially open as if to say something, Angela was stuck in the void. She tried to push for an answer. What was Fareeha about to say? What was happening? They were about to win, weren't they?

Time resumed.

And Angela wished it hadn't.

She was pushed away with a force so intense she lost all command of her flight. However, as she spiraled out of control midair, a massive object swung through the space, and an ear-piercing "crunch" – as if a truck had just crashed into a bicycle at full speed – sounded, Fareeha now nowhere to be seen.

It all didn't register immediately.

Angela knew her brain had switched to emergency mode, recognizing the visual threat to her very life. She didn't feel Dva catch her. She didn't see the Gwishin's leg finally give and erupt in a flurry of fire and smoke, toppling it into the ocean. Casino's Meka dashed across the sky, a blur of green, submerging itself into the water.

'F-F…F-F…' Angela's teeth chattered.

'Jae-eun is gonna get her, Angela. It's gonna be okay.'

'F-Fareeha…F-F…' The doctor recognized her delirium, and the more the reality of the moment settled, the more her body pushed down on her consciousness, pressing her into shock and covering her eyes with darkness.

'We'll get her to a hospital. We got great doctors here. It's fine. I-it's gonna be fine…!'

No. No, it wouldn't be. Angela wasn't as gifted in physics as the other sciences, but even she understood what it meant to be hit by something that big, that hard, that fast. Fareeha was a fly. The Gwishin was a vehicle. The result was the exact parallel.

She couldn't survive it. She would be dead without a fragment of doubt. She wasn't Angela. She wasn't Mercy of Overwatch. The "immortal". The "ethereal". All she had was her courage and dedication to justice. Her honesty. Her purity. Her kindness. She was flesh and blood. Human. Fragile. Hardly full of nanomachines that bent the very laws of nature.

A high pitch ringing made Angela squint and she covered her ears, her eyes hurting and her mouth sore. The ringing wouldn't go away. The pain was just the beginning. What on earth was that sound?

Ah.

Of course.

Angela closed her mouth, but her voice continued to burst from her throat, scratching at her neck until she could scream and scream and scream over and over and over before madness throttled her raspy cries of devastation into silence.


	61. LXI: Tracer

Tracer

Emily really was something. That's all Lena could think as she and Widow moved deep into the underground of King's Row, spiraling through an old subway system and flickering lights illuminating a montage of graffiti that made it very clear omnics were not welcome. Widow hadn't said much since they departed from the redhead's apartment. How could she? What Emily had proposed was conventionally rather unorthodox.

* * *

 _'Hold on a tick, Luv! W-what are you saying?' Lena intervened, wondering if she was just a little more perverse than she thought considering where her mind had gone immediately; a place she had consciously explored not that long ago, in fact. A fantasy she hadn't dared thought would_ ever _be a potential reality in her wildest dreams._

 _'Oh, go on, you tease. You know exactly what I'm saying. I'm wondering if Amelie here is catching on though.'_

 _Despite her seeming confidence, Lena could tell her ex was grappling with such a proposal, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. How could she not? It was something right out of an adult movie. Yet, somehow, it wasn't quite as scummy. In fact, the idea had a certain level of grace and beauty to it considering the circumstances._

 _'We…share Lena, to an extent. Is that correct?' Widow said aloud, and Lena pinched herself. She remembered doing it. She almost drew blood she was in such disbelief._

 _'Heh. Pretty much. I mean, you don't want to be in a relationship with her or anything, right? But you feel comfortable around her, and maybe even like the idea of fooling around here and there since you won't be trusting anyone with that kinda thing for a while. Am I reading the situation correctly?'_

 _'…Perhaps.'_

 _'Oi! Amelie? You serious?' Lena still didn't believe she wasn't imagining any of it, yet Emily pushed forward, reminding Lena as to why she had fallen so hard for her in the first place with her levelheadedness and progressive way of viewing certain scenarios._

 _'I want to be with Lena; as her girlfriend. I love her…maybe too much.' Emily winked, and Lena had responded with an awkward expression, her dumbfounded face ongoing. 'But I know how she can be, and from what I've learned about you, I can easily sympathize with your story, too. You both need one another, and that's okay.'_

 _'You would be fine with me making love to your girlfriend while we are away? Truly?' Widow had asked, and Lena was honestly wondering the answer at that point as well._

 _Emily, surprisingly, shook her head._

 _'No. I draw the line there because now I know you. You can be there for one another. Maybe even be a little intimate here and there, but nothing more than that…'_

 _Lena breathed out. So, she_ was _being ridiculous. That made sense. Thank goodness she hadn't said anything._

 _'…unless I'm present as well.'_

 _'Bloody hell!' Lena almost jumped out of the couch. 'Emily! A-are you serious?'_

 _'You really going to look a gift horse in the mouth, Luv?' She was still blushing. It was crazy cute._

 _'Hmm. Intriguing.' Widow was cupping her chin. 'An erotic yet compromising proposition. You are a riveting woman, Emily.'_

 _'Uh…I try?' Emily shrugged._

 _'May I return with an answer after our meeting?' Widow was considering it? Really? Why!?_

 _'Of course. I'll be up for a bit. Got some editing to do and all. Besides…this kinda talk can be a bit distracting…'_

 _That had been an understatement._

* * *

'So, uh, you wanna chat about anything?' Lena dared to ask, keeping her voice low due to the echoing.

'Hmph. One thing, perhaps.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'Yes.' Widow turned, stepping in close to Lena, her height a little intimidating suddenly. 'Why on earth would you ever let that woman go for even a second, you fool?'

Ouch. She had a point, really, but it still sort of stung. Lena scratched the back of her head shamefully.

'Because I'm a bit of a dolt every now and then? I thought I was doing it to protect her at the time, and I'm sure that was a big part of it, but she kinda nailed it. I'm just…I got issues sometimes when it comes to relationships. Love adventures and all that.'

Widow rolled her eyes, but gave an empathetic small grin.

'If you do not take her, I shall.' She stepped away, and Lena blinked.

'You serious?'

'Almost partially. As she evaluated correctly, a romantic relationship is not what I desire, but I _am_ a woman of passion; specifically as Amelie becomes more involved in my life. My work relied on strong emotions, and the notion of having a safe outlet when "certain" needs arise is appealing.'

'You…don't think you'd want to marry again someday?'

Widow stopped walking at this point, and Lena moved in a little close, trying to get a glimpse of the face the soft-spoken woman was making.

'Not at the moment. Not for quite some time. It does not fascinate me…for many reasons. Once this fight is over, I will return to the stage. I will be on my own for some time. I need a substantial occasion to reflect upon and discover Amelie anew.'

That was fair. Widow deserved that much, at least.

'However, might I ask where you stand in all of this?'

'Me?'

'Yes. You were oddly quiet throughout most of our conversation back there. It was unsettling.'

'Hahah! Well, I was just being careful. Didn't want to say anything stupid, you know?'

'I do.'

'Hey!'

'Heh.' Widow smiled a bit, and it was beautiful. They kept going toward the meeting point, an indicator on Lena's phone showing they were close. She patted her back to ensure her guns were ready, just in case.

'Y-you'd really consider doing _that_ with us?' Lena got the question out, and although it was difficult to ask, she had to know before allowing her mind to stay distracted hopelessly. 'You said you thought it was all weird and stuff, didn't you?'

'I did.' Widow smirked. 'But that was before you had your fun.'

Lena's chest flipped at the compliment. She _thought_ she was a pretty decent lover, but even with biased opinions coming from past relations and Emily she couldn't be certain.

'Aw, really?'

'Don't get cocky.' Widow turned away, hiding her (presumably) darkened faced. 'B-but yes. It was far more pleasant…than anything I've experienced in the past.

Lena wanted to hear more, but another voice suddenly interjected, and both women jumped as Sombra seemingly stepped out of the shadows, her whole body flashing a veil of violet as she emerged.

'Whoa, Spider. What _have_ you been up to while Talon's been out of your life?'

'Well, look who it is.' Lena switched gears.

'Miss me?'

'Nah. Not really.'

'Even after all the fun texts I sent your way?'

'Oh, yeah. Super helpful seconds before things went bloody crazy.'

'Thought you'd like that.' Sombra giggled in a dramatic way, looking to Widow and shaking her head with obvious puzzlement. 'Looking good, Spider. Didn't think you'd make it this far. Surprise surprise. I'm not wrong a lot, but I'll admit I would have lost that bet.'

'Hmph. Amazing how well one can do when not being experimented upon or dealing with a particularly irritating fly buzzing about.'

'Sounds about right.' Sombra shoved her hands in her pockets, moseying about the area with a hood over her head, looking like a regular thug. It suited her, oddly enough. 'You two come alone?'

'Yep.' Lena affirmed.

'Risky. What if it's a trap? What if I got Reaper down here ready to take you all out?'

'You don't.' Widow huffed. 'You attempt to hide desperation, but I could hear your plight loud and clear, silly girl. In too deep, are we?'

Sombra stood still for a moment, but then clapped her hands together and created a multitude of purple-hued screens. She filtered through various charts and data with incredible speed, her fingers dexterously manipulating the information presented until she brought up the entire United Nations, every member's profile on display with biographical notes below their faces. Sombra then snapped her fingers and skulls fell over more than half of the council.

'Need I say more?' She blew on her nails, neon lights still flickering about them.

'No…' Lena breathed. Even she understood the implications. 'That many?'

'You got it, "Luv". And half of them work with Talon directly. No joke.'

' _Impossible_.' Widow uttered with a thick accent.

'So,' Sombra acted disconnected as always, but there was an underlying malice in her voice. 'What to do when the literal "world" wants to put itself through a damn cleansing? I knew things were dirty. I knew years ago, dude. But this bad? Yeah. No wonder I got a shitty roll of the die. When all the kings and queens in their ivory towers are out to get ya, what chance does an orphan have, huh? Not a big one.'

Lena nodded slowly, waiting to see if Sombra was done talking. She rarely spoke honestly, from what Lena gathered, but this was the closest thing to her speaking the truth, presumably.

'How close are they to knowing about you?' Widow asked calmly.

'Too close.' Sombra admitted. 'I'm better than I was before, but so are they. Decent firewalls and all that. Got a peek and bailed. Won't be chancing everything at this point in the game. Getting here was enough of a freaking risk. Thanks a lot.'

'Sorry.' Lena shrugged. 'But thanks for the info. That's good to know…'

A beat.

'Where are the cloning experiments taking place?' Widow was on point. It was sort of cool to see.

'Oh? You guys got that outta Moira, huh? Nice. Saves me some work.'

'Do you know?' Lena thought she would help.

'Obviously.'

'Then your safety is assured should you tell us.' Widow wasn't wasting time whatsoever.

'Already thought this through? I can appreciate that.' Sombra gave a wink. 'I could betray you too, you know. Awful risky bringing me into Overwatch. Maybe this is all part of Talon's plan to get rid of the only threat they got?'

'Nah. Despite everything, I know I can kinda trust you.' Lena gambled. It was only close to the truth. Sombra couldn't ever be fully relied on, but she was a survivor, and this was evidently her best option.

'Gross.' Sombra squinted.

'Do we have a deal or not?' Widow demanded to know.

'Yeah, yeah. Get me to your base safe and sound and we'll go from there. Fair?'

'Yep. Winston wants you under strict surveillance while you're there for a while though.' Lena outlined the final piece of information, and although Sombra openly scoffed at this, she lifted her hands up nonchalantly, slowly bringing them down in front of her as if asking to be cuffed.

'I'm into that, you know?' She jested. 'Rumour has it, Emily is, too.'

Lena's eyes widened, and before she realized what she was doing, she had Sombra pinned to the wall, holding her by the collar, to the girl's surprise. What was even more shocking was how quickly Widow was there as well, her tattooed arm across Sombra's neck.

'Hahah! Two guardian angels? Lucky gal, that one.' The hacker wheezed. 'Just some insurance I scooped up in case this didn't go the way I wanted. No worries. No worries.'

'Does Talon know about her?' Lena hissed through grit teeth. All her fears came to the surface. If Emily got hurt…!

'No. Private information for me only. Talon would never get this deep. Your team in Overwatch keeps your guys' info pretty decently hidden. Hell, I had to come here personally and sniff around only after just barely figuring out where you lived for, like, a blip in time, "Luv". The U.N. doesn't bother making obvious moves against you like that either, so, yeah, she's safe for now.'

'For now?' Widow pressed.

'Yeah. Unless you guys get on over to Talon's little lab and deal with their crazy plan soonish, not a whole lotta people are gonna be safe, got me? Do or die time, ladies. I give it a week or two at most. No lie. They're that close to starting a war. Heh. I _wish_ it was something as easy as another crisis. Nah. I'm calling it the Black Omnic War. It ain't gonna be pretty. They've been planning this for a _long_ time.'

Lena looked to Widow, and they both stepped away from Sombra, the girl rubbing her collar in a mockingly dainty fashion.

'Meanies.' She chastised. 'So, what, you guys gonna escort me to a driver or something? Gonna send me on my way while you say your goodbyes to the redhead in case things get real messy? Girl's gotta know.'

'You know what, Luv?' Lena gave Widow a mischievous glance. 'That isn't a bad idea.'

* * *

Sombra's escort mission went off without a hitch, the girl making playful jabs and sassy remarks the entire time. Lena almost felt bad for the agents assigned to transporting her to Overwatch Gibraltar, but she earnestly needed another moment with Emily; especially now that she knew they were approaching what appeared to be a pivotal battle in the upcoming war. Talon undoubtably would have the cloning facility heavily guarded, and it was the sort of fight Tracer was sure to be assigned to. Only the best would be allowed to participate. It just made sense. High risk, high reward.

Thus, Emily's place in Lena's life needed to be solidified. Fortunately, her ex had made the transition somewhat simpler. Mostly. As easy as she could, given the circumstances.

'You never truly answered my question from before.' Widow decided to ask shortly after Sombra was on her way, the two women approaching Emily's apartment once again. 'You owe that girl a response. What shall it be?'

Lena loved her. Deeply. The more she thought about Emily being hers again the more her life felt aligned. So, where did this hint of hesitation arise from? Her adventurous side. Her daring side. Her inability to stop looking on the other side of the fence. Emily was comfort; Widow was dangerous. It was so human of her. She understood that. The more Lena accepted the house of mirrors she thought she wanted to gaze into, the more Emily's offer became a golden light amongst it all.

'She's my girl.' Lena answered, feeling good about it. 'I've never been so into someone in every way, you know?'

'…I don't. But I'll take your word for it.'

'I'm gonna get back with her, if that's okay.'

'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Heh. Right?'

'…I think it's the correct decision.'

That hesitation. That look. So brief. Perhaps neither really happened.

'Yeah. She's pretty special.'

'An understatement.'

'What about you? She kinda asked you something too, didn't she?'

'I suppose.'

'You said you would respond when we got back.'

'Are we at her apartment already?' Widow's eyes narrowed teasingly. 'Well, then my answer is not required just yet, is it?'

'Oi! You're the worst!'

'Heheh. I can be, admittedly.'

It was déjà vu returning to that musty hall outside of Emily's room. Yet, with only a few hours having passed since the initial encounter, so much had changed. Instead of apprehension and nerves flowing through Lena, she was in anticipation of seeing Emily, a newfound stability progressively nestling into her heart that she knew she could only learn to accept and revel in given time.

She answered the door, her hair a bit of a mess and her glasses still on but crookedly hanging over her nose. She looked a little tired, likely pushing to get whatever editing assigned her done, but her face lit up when she took in Lena and Widow, her dark eyes and dimples on either cheek forcing Lena to appreciate what she had and could have for a long time to come.

'Right this way, ladies.' She welcomed them both. Lena _and_ Widow. What other woman would do such a thing? What other girl would take the time both emotionally and intellectually to get to know Widow and understand the situation the way Emily did? Not many. Not many at all.

Widow was right. She was bloody right. Lena would be a fool to hesitate a second further.

'I love you, Em.' Lena said right then and there, not even stepping into the apartment yet. It slipped out, and came as almost a whisper, but it was the truth, and Emily seemingly could tell, because she put her hand to her chest, and tears instantly began filling her eyes, forcing her to adjust her glasses and wipe them up at the same time.

'As tactful as ever, Luv.' She managed, and Lena shuffled her way in awkwardly, glancing to Widow and wanting to apologize, but the taller woman gave the distinct impression that she would be annoyed if such a thing were to pass between them, and so, Lena left it at that.

Could she have ever deeply fallen in love with the woman known as Amelie? Lena wasn't as certain it was impossible as Widow believed. She cared about Amelie Lacroix; more than even she could ever anticipate, but a future together _did_ feel farfetched, perhaps because this was where Lena knew home to be now. She knew Amelie was attractive and stimulating, but how far would that take them relationally? Friends. Friends and sometimes a little more? A complicated sort of interaction, yet it fit. Emily had so easily found the best form of solution. At least, it certainly seemed to be. The question remained, however: how would Widow – Amelie Lacroix – answer the nonconventional approach?

'She isn't known for holding her tongue.' Widow joked, and it alleviated the perceived tension.

'Isn't that the truth?' Emily giggled, and Widow took a moment before chuckling to herself as well, both women giving Lena a knowing look.

'Oh, come on! If you're both just gonna pick on me all night then I'm outta here.'

'You would risk leaving us alone? You _are_ a daring one.' Widow stepped close to Emily, resting a hand on the girl's bare shoulder, a redness coming over her freckled cheeks.

Did that mean…? No. Don't get excited. Widow loved spinning a web around Lena. She wouldn't give in and let her maintain control.

'Rubbish. As if I would.' Lena pouted, closing the door and hanging up her jacket. Emily took Widow's, gaining a French "thank-you" from the older woman.

'How did it go though?' Emily asked, still smiling, evidently relieved and excited that she and Lena were together again presumably. They would hash out the details later, more than likely, but for Widow's sake, she diverted the topic for the time being "tactfully".

'A little too smoothly?' Lena raised her hands nonchalantly.

'Alarmingly so, I would agree.' Widow confirmed. 'Both parties ran the scenarios competently, one could say, and I know Sombra well enough by now to understand her motives. Thankfully, it ended well, and we may have an advantage in the coming final stages of this particular battle.'

'It's sorta why we're here, Luv.' Lena lowered her voice, wanting to take Emily's hand but restraining herself. 'It's about to get real messy. Like, final level messy. We pull this mission off and the world can be a little safer for a sec. All hands on deck, you know?'

'Ah.' Emily took off her glasses, placing them on the table where the green scarf Lena had bought her for Christmas lay. 'I see. That dangerous, huh?'

'One would assume.' Widow took a seat at the same display, placing one leg over the other more sexily than she likely could be consciously aware of.

'So, we wanted to say "goodbye" all right and stuff. You're crazy important to me, Em. But maybe knowing I have a girlfriend waiting will help push me just enough to make sure I get outta all this okay.' Lena slipped in that little detail and watched Emily's reaction. She closed her eyes in obvious relief, breathing out slowly and retreating to the kitchen.

'How long do I have with you both?' She asked carefully, taking out some neatly placed glasses.

'Um…' Lena wasn't sure. It depended on Widow. They had _some_ wiggle room, after all. It just took a quick message to base, really.

'There aren't any true restrictions.' Widow answered. 'So long as we return by the morrow's afternoon. Overwatch will need to put together an appropriate plan this time. Too much is riding on this infiltration.'

Whoa. Widow was still acting noncommittal, but Lena couldn't help but let her heart do a tiny flip.

'So, does that mean you wouldn't be against a glass of wine or two? It's nothing fancy, but I could sure use one.'

'That would be quite pleasant.' Widow agreed.

Before Lena knew it, the three of them were seated on Emily's couch again, soft music playing through a small Bluetooth speaker connected to Emily's phone. They clanked their glasses together, and Lena tried to enjoy her red wine, despite not being a huge fan to begin with. The cookies from earlier helped, however, but her faces when trying to act the elegant woman gave her away, and Widow could only laugh, Emily also muffling a smirk.

'Still can't handle the stuff, huh? You can down any beer at the pub, but give you something refined and you're a mess.' Emily said.

'Oh, it's hardly a surprise, is it? We upper-class women must truly stuck together, I suppose.' Widow gave Emily's glass another clank, and while Lena encouraged the comradery, it seemed to always happen at her expense.

'I'm definitely not that, but I'll take it.' Emily giggled.

'I appreciate the hospitality, Emily.' Widow went on, standing up to go to her jacket and extract her pills. She must have been having a small spasm, because the decision happened somewhat abruptly.

'You okay?' Lena asked with concern.

'I will be. I apologize.'

'No. No need.' Emily almost got up, but Lena gave her sweater a tug, knowing Widow was picky about when to be babied. 'Is it…because of what Talon did?'

'Yes. Dr. Ziegler attempted to modify my brain appropriately, but the task was too much even for her at the time. Thus, these sedatives. Quite brilliant, that doctor. To concoct something so effective in such a short period of time? I'm impressed.'

'I've read a lot of her work. To think she's your co-worker, Lena!'

'Easy on the eyes, too!' Lena added. 'Plus, she's totally got a girlfriend now. Pretty daft, innit?'

'Oh? Who?' Emily's eyes lit up.

'A woman by the name of Fareeha. The strong, silent sort.' Widow was coming back to the couch, elegantly taking her seat to Lena's right.

'Ah! Do you have a picture, Lena?'

'Sure do! Check her out!'

'Oh, my! She would drive a lot of girls wild, wouldn't she?'

'Not _my_ style, but she's definitely got a thing going for the lads and lassies.'

'So, Emily,' Widow swirled her glass. 'Before meeting Lena, had you ever been with a woman prior?'

'God, no. She was definitely my first.' Emily took a large sip of her drink, placing it back on the table before them. 'I was minding my own business at the pub near here. Just having a drink to soften the blow of a busy week, and this girl waltzes up to me and starts flirting. I mean, I've been hit on plenty of times, but this was a new one. She was so confident, charming, and cute, and I didn't mind chatting with her. I kept telling myself she was just being friendly, and even when we exchanged numbers and such, I tried not to think much on it.'

'She was so damn beautiful I couldn't _not_ take a chance. Making a move on straight girls is almost _always_ a problem, but Emily was a challenge I was willing to take a shot at. She was all by herself, enjoying a drink, and I thought it was mighty sexy in its own way.'

'Go on.' Widow was grinning, her face a little flushed. They hadn't eaten too much that day. If she was anything like Lena, the buzz was hitting her by now. Perhaps that's what she wanted? Did she need to encourage her boldness to accept Emily's offer? Would it even happen tonight? Lena's mind was muffling, but she still couldn't stop picturing the scene, her body heating up profusely.

'So, this Lena girl texts me and basically asks me out on a date.'

'She said she liked art, so, I thought I'd take her to a museum the next city over. Lunch and a tour. Not too shabby, huh?'

'Indeed.'

'I _still_ thought she was just being friendly.'

'Bloody daft, this one.'

'Come on! How silly would I have looked if I thought otherwise?'

'Bout as silly as you looked when I first tried to hold your hand there in that museum! Hahah!'

'Oh?' Widow was more engaged than usual, and it was nice to see.

'Whatever, Lena. It was a bold move.'

'And? How did you react?'

'I…' Emily blushed adorably. 'I let her, I guess. It felt…nice. Soft but…sure. I barely remember the rest of the date. She dropped me off like a gentlewoman and left me up all night, staring at my ceiling wondering what the heck had come over me.'

'Didn't reply to my text messages for a while after that, huh, Luv?'

'I was confused, Lena. We've been over this. I hadn't considered such a thing before. Never! It was so bizarre. I mean, I was fine with it in everyday life, don't get me wrong, but it was always such a distant world that I could read about or see from afar.'

'What convinced you that Lena was an eligible option?' Widow's eyes were focused, the answer possibly meaning more to her than she wished to let on. Emily looked to Lena and grinned sheepishly, shaking her head.

'She showed up at my door with that rose right there on the table. She said she was sorry for putting me on the spot, and didn't want to make me uncomfortable anymore. She said she would leave me alone.'

Lena stared at the dried rose. She remembered purchasing it. She recalled how nervous she was addressing her seeming mistake for attempting to sway another straight girl.

'And?' Widow leaned forward.

'My chest hurt when I saw her walking down that hallway out there. It…really hurt. I ran after her and stopped her, asking her to give me time.'

'Asked me out the next day. _That_ was a good date.' Lena took a sip of her wine, squinting her whole face as it went down.

'Did you make love, then?' Widow's voice was up an octave, and she cleared her throat.

'N-not then. We…kissed. I was convinced after that. I could fall for a girl. I _did_ fall for another woman.'

'Hm. She has skill, I will admit.'

'Hahah! It's kind of weird we can talk about this.' Emily admitted.

'You're telling me.' Lena agreed.

'Do you mind me asking what your first time with her was like?' Widow dared, and Lena whistled, leaving it to Emily, who was shy about going on, but full of enough wine to humour the idea.

'S-sure. I mean, if you accept my idea then what's there to hide, right? Um…' Emily swallowed, shifting in the couch. 'It was…really different. I'd been with a couple of guys before, and it was fine, but something about the attention Lena knew how to give me was…extraordinary.'

'Aw, shucks!' Lena slapped at the air.

'Enough.' Widow nudged her. 'More detail.'

Lena blinked. More detail? Was this…Widow's way of getting in the mood? Was that too fantastic? Lena made eye contact with Emily, and her girlfriend nodded slowly, as if wondering the same thing. She was good with words and at telling a story. If anyone could turn this situation into something otherworldly, it was her. Lena trusted her to handle the rest. She wasn't still convinced Widow was willing, but it really was now or never, wasn't it? Time was something none of them had the luxury to fool around with; even Tracer.

'It was quite a while in, wasn't it?' Emily found Lena's gaze, the recollection a lovely exchange.

'Made me work for it, that's for sure.'

'I was nervous! I mean, I prepared myself for being with a guy all my life, but it was all so new and…different. We were lounging here after a date, and it just…sorta happened.'

'How?' Widow finished her wine, placing the glass down softly.

'She…started kissing me. And honestly, Lena, I could tell you wanted more that very moment.'

'What!? No bloody way!'

'You were so passionate! It was obvious!'

'Heheh! Really?'

'Well, the hand going up my shirt didn't conceal your intentions terribly well either.'

'You have a nice body, Emily; specially in the chestal region.'

'I would have to concur.' Widow hummed, and Lena lost her breath. Was this real? Could she possibly be so lucky? 'Now, go on.'

'I told her to stop, but I was just going through the motions. I didn't want her to stop. Not one bit. Her soft fingers and dedicated touch turned me to jelly right away. I encouraged her. I remember noticing the way she stealthily undid my pants and slid her hand inside. So much experience from this one, I tell you.'

'You had sexy panties on. You totally wanted it.'

'Maybe I did…' Emily shrugged. 'The rest is a little bit of a blur. But I lost a lot of hesitation when I saw Lena naked as well. Her body was light. Her mouth was pleasant. Everything was tender but meticulous. I've never…um…gotten off so many times in succession.'

A pause, with Emily's face turning as red as her alluring hair.

'You're actually going to leave it at that? Both of you!? Bloody hell! Why was I the one that had to say everything anyway?'

Emily made a sound with her mouth closed, but then Widow finally responded, and what she said next floored even Lena, the time traveler wondering if she was hearing things now. Was her imagination leaking into reality? Had she blown everything completely out of proportion?

'Show me.' It wasn't a question. It was a demand. Widow was completely serious, but Emily, perhaps out of social expectation, had to answer with bafflement.

'Pardon!?'

'If I'm intrigued, then I'll accept your offer, Emily; outlandish as it is. I am a woman as well, and this talk, paired with the wine, combined with my lack of such activity in quite some time sets the stage for frivolity we all might not humour for many days to come. Convince me that this is, indeed, a world I can find such apparent pleasure in.' Widow breathed out slowly. 'Or don't. I hardly care either way.'

That was a lie. Widow was feeling randy, but Lena wasn't sure Emily quite expected the woman to truly take her up on the unconventional arrangement so soon. Yes, they all clearly connected better than any of them could have ever predicted, but to get involved in the same night? The extraordinary circumstances helped, Lena supposed, because otherwise the mere notion would be out of the question…right?

'What do you think, Luv? Got enough wine in you?' Lena grinned.

'Lena…' Emily pushed some hair behind her ear. 'You realize you've been gone a while, don't you? I wouldn't need the wine. I've been wanting to since I heard your voice on the phone.'

'Well, yeah, but with an audience? Hahah! Didn't think you were into that.'

'I'm not.' Emily looked to Widow, biting at her lower lip irresistibly. 'But some people you just connect with more easily. And she's bloody gorgeous. Jesus. Whatever. Yes. I'm a bit drunk, okay? I'll maybe be embarrassed about all this in the morning, but I _wasn't_ influenced when I made my offer, and it still stands. Time to put up or shut up.'

'Or put out?' Lena jested, trying to joke her way through the strange scenario.

'Oh, just shut up and kiss me, you crazy Brit.'

It was returning home. Emily's lips back on Lena's. Lena exhaled deeply through her nose, her hands immediately on Emily's waist as she sat atop her, holding her face. Her girlfriend. The one she almost let go. Widow was right. How could she have ever thought that was a good idea? Emily was adventurous, smart, dedicated, graceful, mature, and obviously a little more openminded than even Lena could have pictured.

'H-hah…' Emily gasped, opening her mouth wide and dancing within Lena's own. Tracer navigated her hands up and within Emily's loose sweater, and the instant moan that hummed through the redhead's throat pushed her further over the edge. She bunched the material up and atop the woman's bountiful breasts, and wasted little time exposing the tantalizing mounds of flesh.

'Ah…' Emily sighed, her waist quivering nervously.

Apparently, that was all it took, because Widow was reaching into the passionate moment, her hand cupping Emily's malleable chest and squeezing it until the girl squeaked a little.

'Oh, God…A-are we…really doing this?' She wheezed, and Lena was asking herself the same thing. Widow flinched back at the comment, but Emily shook her head, a drunk love coming over her flushed, dazed expression. 'No. It's fine. Your touch is cool. It's…nice…'

Yet, Widow returned to observing, and Lena took it upon herself to give the quieter woman the encouragement she needed. Lena re-enacted what she and her girlfriend had been describing, reaching into Emily's pants and feeling her warm, damp body, the clear longing present.

'Mmm…Lena…' Emily uttered seductively in that way she could so effortlessly. 'I missed your touch…'

She delicately unfastened Lena's chronal accelerator and lifted her tiny shirt over her head, Lena's primarily yellow sports bra containing her much smaller chest when compared to the sudden instigator. Emily then went down to her knees and shuffled Lena out of her pants, a matching pair of boyish shorts tight against her skin. It was pretty embarrassing, especially with Widow so close by, watching attentively with a curious gaze. Lena didn't _hate_ her body, but she didn't have anything terribly noteworthy to write home about. Emily claimed her backside was adorable, but otherwise, she felt like a young lad more often than not, with only modest curves to speak of overall.

'You better not be thinking what I suspect you are, Ms. Oxton.' Emily rubbed Lena's thighs, in and out, progressively moving closer to her groin. It was so good.

'Don't know what you're talkin' about, Luv.' Lena laughed nervously.

'Heh. Thatta girl.' Emily met Lena's eyes, allowing her thumbs to begin massaging between Lena's legs, causing her stomach to tense and her head to twitch forward in anticipation. 'May I?'

'O-oh, Emily…Jesus you're good…'

'Is that a "yes" or a "no"? Hmm?'

'Go on…' Widow exhaled.

'Only if that shirt comes off, sexy lady.'

Emily grinned slyly, pulling the material up and off, her red hair tangling around her pretty face and her equally beauteous, large chest sliding against Lena's legs as she eased herself in.

'Let's put on a good show, okay?' Emily winked, and before Lena could respond, she was gripping onto Emily's head while she worked her magic, pulling Lena's briefs to the side and pressing her tongue between the tight part of Lena she seemed to love so. It would have been a crime if Emily was never shown what kind of lover she could be for women. Lena had had her fair share of female companions, but Emily was meticulous in everyday life, a stickler for details and minor nuances. This translated overwhelmingly well to the bedroom, and Lena was groaning between clenched teeth, her back arched against the couch and her conscious awareness of Widow an added stimulus to the erotic exchange her girlfriend bestowed upon her.

'Mmm. That's a good face.' Widow gripped Lena's chin between her hand, almost roughly, and then began kissing her, as if she couldn't handle the spectacle without engaging any further. Her tongue reached deep into Lena's throat, and Emily almost mirrored the act, Lena's scream of pleasure muffled.

Widow parted from her a second later, tracing her lips down Lena's body before lifting her sports bra up and encircling the hardened, pink tips revealed with her mouth prior to giving nearly painful bites in between the soothing moisture.

'B-bloody hell…This is too much…!' Lena sighed, holding Widow's shoulders.

'Foolish girl. It is only the beginning.'

And she wasn't wrong. Not in the slightest. Lena had dared to dream shortly after she and Widow grew closer. A scenario not completely unlike this manifested guiltily in desperate need for personal fulfillment. Would it ever come to pass? No. At least, Lena could never think as much. That's why dreams were appealing, because of their elusiveness. That's why the adult video industry thrived. It provided realities that were sought after but were ultimately impossible for the masses.

So, how did Lena get so lucky?

She could manipulate time, so, why could she not freeze what her eyes took in? She tried. Oh, she tried. Many, many times she tried. Widow having her clothes removed by Emily. The two women touching one another. Kissing one another. Watching Lena as she took it all in with teasing grins of knowing torture. When had they all become naked? How was it that Emily and Widow were comfortable enough with one another to simultaneously go down on Lena, knowing precisely when to kiss for her, passing the fluid that seeped from her womanhood endlessly due to the brilliant sight between themselves?

Lena couldn't remember making it to Emily's room, but she didn't mind having the soft bed against her back, especially when she instinctively equipped herself with Emily's favourite toy and had her girlfriend eased atop of it, her smooth form melding around the phallic extension and her moans of pleasure only sedated when Widow personally contained them with her mouth, the other woman allowing Lena to consume her perfect bottom while she nearly sat on her face.

It was heaven. It really was. Lena pictured how it looked and it only forced her stomach into continuous spasms of rapturous release. Lena flat on the bed with two of the most beautiful women she knew drawing pleasure from both ends of her while also groping each other's breasts, stomachs, hips, and even lower, the harmonious sounds of their voices escalated to choruses of delight and servitude of grandeur. It was the perfect send off.

But it didn't even end there, to Lena's joy. Not even when both Widow and Emily were gazing up at her as they soaked her protruding member, arms holding one another and mouths incapable of not meeting at irregular but arousing intervals.

Nope. In a moment of clarity, her senses sharpened, Lena was looking down at Widow, her dark hair falling over her slightly gleaming face and her small breasts laying flat as she breathed heavily, hands resting at her collar. Emily cradled the gorgeous woman's jaw, sitting behind her, stroking her cheeks softly as Lena held her large person, rubbing it temptingly about Widow's quivering womanhood. She loved this piece of bio-technology. Widow was tender and wet, as smooth as silk and finally willing, ready, perhaps even craving such fulfillment from someone she could wholeheartedly trust. Why else would she stare into Lena's blurring eyes and nod slowly, nibbling at the side of her bottom lip?

'Well, foolish girl,' She hummed in her maddening French accent. 'I shall permit it this one time. Make it count, won't you?'

She was trying to sound tough. It was part of what made her contrasting personas so alluring. She was nervous. Rightly so. But Lena wouldn't disappoint. She couldn't now. She held Widow's wide hips – much wider than Emily's – and finally felt the way her body could engulf her without mercy. The pressure was all consuming, and Widow grabbed hold of Lena, biting her ear and scratching at her back the deeper Lena managed to penetrate.

'H-hah…hah…hah…' Widow's breaths blew into Lena's brain, and her legs pincered her between them with incredible strength. It was hard to move. ' _To what could have been…my hero_.'

The words were impossible to understand. Lena's mind was turning into jelly. She was inside Widow. _The_ Widowmaker. Amelie Lacroix. It meant more than she wanted it to. Even as she began the necessary movements, Lena squinted, a strange emotion overwhelming her. She held Widow, and Widow held her, their connection taking them both by surprise. Lena prayed it didn't show…whatever "it" was.

And it was over before it began, to Lena's dismay. She was drained so quickly, but as she lay with Widow on one side and Emily on another, the lights from the night sky painting the room a soft, pale light, she recounted the moments that stuck, the images so raw and powerful her body nearly prepped for another go.

Widow had kissed her while they were making love. It wasn't a normal kiss.

Eventually, Lena had elevated herself up so that she could see Widow in her entirety, glancing down at the way she entered her and pulled out, the woman's body dark and distracting, and her heightening, screaming moans of satisfaction unleashed. While Lena did this, Emily was behind her, caressing her body and causing goosebumps all over her, deep down into her core. They kissed as well. Also not a normal kiss. Something had evolved in their relationship. It was good.

When Lena extracted herself, a shadow of what a man could naturally provide oozing out of Widow, that moment was frightfully clear, even more so because of the way Emily had consumed it all, trading the spoils with Lena while Widow covered her face in presumable anxiety.

Finally, the honest satisfaction that was so obviously present upon the sexual activity's conclusion was potentially the most problematic of all, and yet there was sincere appreciation traded in little ways leading up to snuggling into bed. Emily helped gather up the clothing while Widow cleaned the lingering mess from Lena's toy. Lena herself grabbed everyone a glass of water, and some hygienic products were offered to tie it all up neatly. The three women naturally had _some_ air of awkwardness about them, but Lena did her darndest to diminish that as best as possible by simply not beating about the bush and calling it for what it was:

'Best bloody threesome a girl could ask for, let me tell ya!'

'Just had to go and say it.' Emily blushed.

'Crude…' Widow rolled her eyes.

But it had helped, and the trio of women from three very different walks in life were able to fall into a pleasing slumber, dressed in nothing but their underwear, a bizarre relationship formed, but perhaps that's all it could have ever been given those involved.

'Goodnight, Luvs…' Lena whispered to the room, and her beaming face had never been so bright.


	62. LXII: Pharah

Pharah

 _B-b…_

Angela's blonde hair was matted and stuck to her perspiring face. Blotches padded out her thinning cheeks, and her lab coat was tearing in various places. She was a mess. She was drained. She was obviously not eating properly. But her eyes were pure and powerful as she stitched up an enormous gash across a little girl's leg. Her voice continued to whisper, almost humming, and despite Angela's state, Fareeha couldn't deny the thought that passed through her mind without a singular filter:

This woman was stunning in every imaginable way.

 _..zzzt…_

'I've seen enough unnecessary death for many lifetimes. This country has been abandoned by its government. The people are crying for help and yet not a single soul will listen. Innocent children die on the streets daily. I…cannot turn my back on these citizens. It is against my very nature.'

 _B-b…_

'You're a curious individual, Fareeha. I dare say my evaluation of you now is quite contrasting when compared to the one I made during our very first encounter.'

'For the better, I would hope.'

'Certainly, for the better.'

… _eep…_

'We lost her. I attempted to inject nanomachines to help her stomach's damaged tissue and nerves, but her body wouldn't take to them. She was dying. It was the only solution. She wanted me to try. I knew it wouldn't work. The variables were too erratic, and the setting isn't ideal. I don't have the proper tools or assistance, and I don't understand precisely her…her…'

 _Bzzt._

'A death of any kind is never alright, Fareeha. That is the fundamental problem with this world.'

 _Beep._

The fact nobody entered the room led Fareeha to believe that Angela desired time alone during such happenings. Fareeha almost left herself, sensing the repelling force from Dr. Ziegler. But instead, she found a fresh tissue and lifted it to the woman's face, dabbing at the tears and forcing her mouth to work.

'I'm sorry.'

'Even with all my power and knowledge…I still can't save those right in front of me at times…'

'But you have saved many, have you not?'

'I have also lost many.'

'You're not a Goddess. You're a human doing more than most.'

'That's hardly saying anything whatsoever.'

 _Vital…_

'You are overjoyed to be part of Overwatch now. If Winston is in charge, and if the government isn't involved, I suppose there is hope. Jack was too emotional and proud. Gabriel was even worse, in a way. Winston is smart, and above all, he doesn't have an ounce of damaging greed in his body. I cannot support Overwatch now, but…I am not ignorant enough to claim it is without its virtues if handled correctly this time.'

'I will do my best to ensure it stays on the path of truth, Dr. Ziegler.'

'I know.' Angela forced a smile, and Fareeha shivered slightly. This woman was dangerous. It was lethal enough that she was intellectually brilliant, but even in her state, Fareeha could recognize a natural beauty as well. Who could resist the good doctor if she cleaned up just a bit? Fareeha doubted many would be capable. 'You are honest to a fault, it would appear. I do not dislike that, but some may attempt to take advantage of such a trait. Be careful, Fareeha.'

'You as well, Dr. Ziegler. This is not a safe country.'

'And that is why I am here.'

… _signs…_

'How _do_ you do it, Dr. Ziegler? I could last a few days, but…'

'Because I can, Fareeha. It's as simple as that. If I could duplicate myself to help the world over at the expense of my own life's length, I would without a second thought.'

'But…why?'

Angela giggled.

'I already answered your question, Fareeha.'

… _not…_

'The moment you include humans in any equation, you do not have a stable formula. The variables are ever changing. You know this.'

… _detected._

'I think she will be a perfect candidate for the revived Overwatch team, yes.'

 _Vital…signs…_

'I have managed to bury my feelings for now. I suppose it's best I become used to doing that again.'

'Oh…'

'Hm? You do not agree with my method?'

'If I might be frank, it does not seem healthy.'

… _not…detected._

'I must look like a fine piece of work.'

'Er…We might have time to purchase some clothes for you tomorrow before departure.'

'That would be ideal.'

'But…You are still every bit the angel I viewed upon our first encounter, Dr. Ziegler, if you do not mind me saying.'

'An overstatement if ever there was one, but that was a rather smooth line. If you were a man, I might be in trouble, no?'

 _Approx…im…ate…ly…_

'The phrase "boyfriend's shirt" comes to mind.' Angela laughed, observing herself in the mirror from various angles. She looked adorable, and what she said only served to push Fareeha into more modes of discomfort.

'Have you ever done such a thing, Fareeha? I imagine you would require a rather larger man to adequately pull off such a look. Someone like Reinhardt?'

'P-perhaps.'

'Is your current significant other capable of providing you with this sensation?'

'I am not currently involved in anything romantic.'

'Ah. We are _both_ women married to our work, then. It is a small wonder I feel a level of comradery with you. How pleasant. We're a rare breed, some might say.'

Fareeha didn't know how to respond. She was happy Angela was seemingly coping with the events from the day before fairly well, but she was also annoyed that the doctor held such a shield about herself emotionally. What was she actually thinking and feeling? Why was Fareeha so curious to the point that she felt ill?

'I've…been on a few dates somewhat recently, but they didn't quite lead to anything substantial.'

'My romantic endeavours from the rather distant past at this point had similar conclusions. I don't really bother anymore. Men are intimidated by me, for the most part, and it makes for strained conversation on both ends no matter what the circumstance. It's hard for me to shut off the "doctor" side of my personality, and I understand that contributes to my inability to find a sound mate. The fact I don't feel the need to be positively appraised by another individual on a regular basis nulls a sense of desperation as well. Overall, at thirty-seven, romance is quite low on the list of priorities.'

Fareeha observed Angela shrug, a knot forming in the younger woman's throat. Why was this conversation causing her such anxiety? Did she feel sorry for Dr. Ziegler? Did she simply not know how to reply? Fareeha opened her mouth, feeling the dryness of it suddenly.

'That…is quite the loss to men everywhere, one could say.'

 _One…hundred…_

'Oh? I saw a black pair that made me think of you in that corner. Is that odd?' Angela turned to pay, and Fareeha was thankful for it, because she knew her face was burning. It was just admiration. It was simply being star-struck. It would all change by the end of the day. There was no point imagining anything other than being acquaintances was transpiring. Angela was known for her selflessness and kindness. Fareeha was just another patient. Her emotions were behaving erratically because of the way her life had been so completely flipped within such a short period of time. That's all any of this was.

… _sixty…_

'If…if you need someone to talk to during our stay…er…I am available.'

'That may very well be a necessity on occasion. Who knows?'

It was ambiguous and kind, so what more could Fareeha expect?

Angela visibly seemed to shake off the brief moment of vulnerability and reequipped her mask of undaunting prowess.

'Either way, you have already proven a better date than any I've had in the past, so, there's that, at the very least.'

'Really? Then I am afraid you have had terrible luck.'

'I wouldn't say that. You just happen to be an agreeable person, as far as I am concerned.'

… _eight…_

'What girl doesn't enjoy purchasing some tastefully expensive pieces of fabric for none to see but herself?'

'By choice.'

'We can certainly go with that.'

'I doubt almost any man could resist you, Angela. You must know this by now.'

'And you also know that my expectations as well as standards are rather colossal. Thus, I'm looking forward to my spinning days once I am unable to move about the world as I am now.' Angela paused, touching her lips playfully with her index finger. 'Unless _you're_ willing to humour me with your company should I get lonely at night from here on out.'

'I-I could never…'

'Surely.'

… _minor to…lethal…_

'Careful. You must allow it to heal; surely you know this. I can't imagine it's your first time being injured thus.'

'Of course not.'

'Then take care of yourself; doctor's orders.'

'Fine…'

'Good girl.'

'I'm not a child.'

'Oh, I am quite aware of that.'

… _puncture wounds…_

'Ah! I believe I've got it!'

'Pardon?'

'Pharah. What do you think?'

'Pharah?'

'It's a mixture of the word pharaoh and your name, Fareeha. Rather appropriate, wouldn't you say? At once, it is somewhat soft sounding, but at the same time, the word pharaoh itself carries weight and respect. You are in control of the power you wield, like a good king or, in this case, pharaoh. You are also quite regal, if you don't mind me saying. I admire the dignified way you carry yourself. I personally think we have a winner.'

'Pharah…' Fareeha repeated the alias, and she would admit that her heart was skipping a beat. She connected with the name, and her cheeks pinched with excitement. Angela Ziegler had thought of it, and her reasoning was beyond flattering.

'Yes. I…I really like that.'

… _detected._

'Jack doesn't seem to doubt that.' Angela stepped forward, touching Jack on the chest and pushing him back into the chair he had been sitting in. She took hold of his face and gripped it tightly, from what Fareeha could see. The proximity between the two Overwatch agents was almost embarrassing, but Fareeha couldn't look away.

'Hold still.' Angela demanded, and Jack groaned in frustration.

'I'm fine.'

'I highly doubt that. From what I've heard, you've been _very_ busy.'

'Just doin' what no one else will.'

'And now you're here.'

'…Didn't have a choice.'

'So it would seem.'

'And you?'

'A similar conclusion.'

Fareeha should've been in awe, but she was just becoming more irritable with every passing minute. She was being ridiculous, especially considering what she had just stated. Her mother would be ashamed of such lack of emotional control. But she just couldn't…

 _Raptora armour…_

Fareeha would die here. She would never make her mark in Overwatch. She would never live up to her mother's legendary status. She would never look into Angela's beautiful eyes again or hear her teasing, attractive voice.

'Oh, God…' Fareeha gasped, gripping at her chest. The emotions were overwhelming her, and the realization of what they potentially meant gave her immediate pause.

… _damaged…_

'On a scale from one to ten, how do you feel?'

'One…being bad?'

'Yes.'

'…Four.'

'Truly?'

'Yes.'

'You're stubborn. I would certainly say at least a three or two. You're barely conscious. You should rest. I will watch over you.'

'I know…but…'

'But what?'

'…I don't want to lose you again.'

'P-Pardon?'

'I…couldn't stop thinking about you when I was fighting. I…think – '

'I think you're delusional right now.'

' – you're beautiful…'

'I…appreciate that, Fareeha. Although, I just woke up, so, I suppose you truly are seeing things through a skewed vision of delirium due to the pain. We'll remedy that hastily.'

'It's funny…Because, right now, I don't think…I've ever thought you were more beautiful…'

… _beyond…_

'There has been quite a bit to do since we arrived. Your basic training and rank measuring needed to be completed…and now re-evaluated.'

'Oh…'

'In a good way, Fareeha. Your accomplishments are being recognized.'

'Oh!'

'Yes. Yes. I reviewed the reports myself, and I wouldn't be shocked if your rank went up. Your responsibilities and consideration for leading your own missions will certainly be presented before Winston, Jack, and the rest of Overwatch's leaders.'

'I see.'

'Your mother would be very proud.'

'You think?'

'Yes. _I'm_ very proud.'

'T-thank-you.'

… _repair._

'Angela?'

'Fine. Yes. Everything is fine.'

'Your face is…a little red, Angela.'

'It could be a cold. Perhaps. Yes. Perhaps that's precisely what it is. I better return to my quarters for the moment. A rather large mission is approaching, and I may be needed. There is a call button on your bed. Please use it should you need anything. Breakfast will be brought to you soon. I…I will speak with you later.'

'Angela!'

'Yes…?'

'Um…if it is alright with you…And I hope I am not imposing…but when I am able, might I…er…treat you to a drink…A-as thank-you for treating me so well in my time of need?'

'I would like that very much. Yes.'

 _Multiple…_

Was it love? Fareeha couldn't say quite yet. But she could certainly submit to the very reality that she was, at the very least, interested in Angela. And she was interested in having something more than simple friendship with the older woman. It's why she had gathered all the courage she had and asked Angela on what could very well be interpreted as a "date".

But that was all a matter of perspective, and even Fareeha wasn't foolish enough to assume Angela could be aware of her intentions. _Fareeha_ barely knew her own intentions. All she knew was that she wanted to spend more time with Angela to figure her own feelings out and proceed from there.

It was insanity. Angela Ziegler was a world-famous doctor that could, quite realistically, have whoever she wanted in her life romantically. She had _chosen_ to not see anybody for so many years, so, why did Fareeha think she even had a figment of a chance? She didn't. But that also didn't mean she wouldn't try, at the very least. Fareeha had learned, quite the hard way, that not even trying could lead to a world of regrets. She would never make that mistake again.

… _fragments…_

'So, yeah, if – when you're better, of course – you want to maybe spend some time together, like, get a drink or something like that, then I would be honoured to have your company.'

'So…that would be a "date", right? A…romantic outing between two people? What you just asked me is undoubtedly a proposal to go on a date with you?'

Bradley laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck.

'Well, yeah, I guess you could say that, Fareeha. You ever been on a date before? You almost make it sound totally foreign to you.'

'It isn't. I was just curious.' Fareeha tried not to smile. So, Angela had agreed to her request when it was so obviously a date? No. Maybe not. It was different between persons of the same sex still. She couldn't make any assumptions. No matter how far society had come, even Fareeha knew it was still not _quite_ normal yet for two individuals of the same sex to be involved with one another in such a way. Fareeha had a feeling it would never really be completely "normal" somehow.

'So…?'

'No, thank-you. I don't think that is a good idea.'

'…Really?'

'Yes. Really.'

'Wow. I…definitely misread something.'

'You did? How?'

'I just thought…Huh. Maybe we had a connection?'

'We are comrades, yes. We share the same heritage as well. I like you as friend, there is no doubt about that either.'

'Right. Right. So, you have a boyfriend already?'

'I do not. However, I think I am interested in somebody, and that is why I would rather not risk jeopardizing that potential relationship just yet.'

… _imbedded within…agent._

And yet now, at thirty-two, well into her womanhood, Fareeha finally felt something like a spark of intrigue that expanded beyond passing curiosity. Her, admittedly, limited imagination was being tested, and she pictured Angela close to her, their faces mere inches apart, so close she could feel the other woman's breath. Did she want to kiss her? Was that truly what Fareeha desired? Angela's lips looked so soft and full. Her blue eyes were like the purest aquamarines Fareeha had ever seen. Her body was slender but shapely in all the right places, practically sculpted by the gods of lore.

'Mmm…'

If given the opportunity, would Fareeha be willing to hold Angela's beautiful face in her hands and tell her how much she adored her? Could Fareeha slowly peel off the doctor's lab coat, skirt, blouse, and underwear to reveal her feminine form? Would Fareeha be capable of drawing pleasure from Angela's soft, pale skin, her modest but pleasing chest, and her slender legs? How did two women make love exactly?

'A-ah…'

Right. Perhaps that was a silly question. Fareeha was a woman as well. Although that didn't give her all the answers she needed, she had a better grasp of what to do than when placed before a man's wishes. A woman would like to be touched and eased into the exchange. Fareeha would start by kissing Angela softly, and then, as that kiss grew more intense, she would caress the other girl, learning where and how she liked to be pleasured by the way her voice moaned through her throat.

'Hah…h-hah…'

What sort of voice would Angela have in the heat of the moment? It would surely be adorable. She would resist giving herself over completely, for she seemed proud, like Fareeha, but the Egyptian had confidence she could convince the doctor otherwise.

'Ung…'

The images in Fareeha's brain escalated alongside her own rhythmic allowance. She had rarely engaged in such an act of self relief, but she couldn't stop herself now. She could almost feel Angela's naked form beneath her own, their bodies pressed together and lips passionately embracing one another. They wanted nothing but pleasure for their respective partner, and Fareeha bit down hard on her lip, her body still aching, but her desires suddenly hurting even more so.

'Angela…Angela…' Fareeha gasped, a current of ecstasy overtaking her abdomen, circulating downward.

 _Legs…_

'But what if you don't come back? What if I never see you again?'

'It is the reality of my job, Fareeha. I'm sorry. It's why I distance myself so adamantly. It's why I attempted to do the same with you…and somehow failed along the way.'

Fareeha wanted to say it right there. She wasn't sure of her feelings exactly, but she felt compelled to say it as the potential she was starting to see began to crumble around her.

 _I care about you._

But she couldn't. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel fair. And thus, she endowed her military training and nodded slowly.

'…Fine. We both failed in that regard, it seemed.'

'Kindred spirituality has a way of working past our personal preferences. I must go…'

Fareeha's face buzzed, but she relented.

'I'll…miss you.' She pushed the words out. She could admit that much, at the very least.

'I'll miss you, too, Fareeha. Very much.'

 _Pelvis…_

"Fareeha. I am about to head out into Saint Petersburg to help subdue the crisis the omnics and Talon have created. I will be fighting in the frontlines, more than likely, and will not be able to communicate with you again for quite some time. Thus, I thought I would quickly write you and tell you that I am hoping you are doing well. Ideally, I will be returning sooner rather than later. A nice, warm drink together sounds rather nice amidst this frightfully cold weather. I am also thinking of you…quite a bit. Odd, isn't it?"

 _Stomach…_

'Angela may have fought the way she did partially because of this bond she feels with you. It's the only explanation that somewhat makes sense. Zenyatta here said as much, anyway. I think it's a bit farfetched myself.' Jack continued to explain, and Zenyatta stepped in finally.

'Her thoughts were in confused turmoil prior to the mission. Her emotions so raw that I could vividly see the colours emanating from her soul. I offered words of encouragement, and she was, perhaps, fortified to contact that very source of muddled contemplation. Thus, the message soon delivered thereafter, one may assume.'

'You're special to her.' Ana concluded. 'And after the initial medical work is done in private, we want you to be the one to watch over Angela as she recovers. It's all we can offer our friend when every other method has been exhausted.'

 _Chest…_

'I'm here…Angela.'

'Hm.'

'Angela…!'

'We're…quite the pair…aren't we?'

'Y-yes. Yes, we are. But…shouldn't you rest?'

'Quite. However, resting would mean…missing this chance.'

'Chance?'

'To see you…of course…'

The comment brought to Fareeha a wave of joy that coursed through her entire body. She couldn't respond right away, and her mouth hung open awkwardly.

'Although I suppose…it might be just me.'

'N-no. I mean, I just…don't know sometimes.' Fareeha started, gathering her courage and thoughts. 'I…I wanted to see you, too. That's what I meant to say.'

'Oh…Quite…the effect…'

'Effect?'

'It is…nothing.'

'May I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?'

'I am…rather thirsty, but my body…'

'It's fine.' Fareeha stood up, rushing to the fridge and extracting a fresh bottle of water from it. She twisted off the cap, and sat back down, holding the beverage with a vice grip and shuffling in just a little closer. 'Is it okay?' She asked, indicating that she was willing to serve Angela as needed.

'Please…'

Fareeha tried not to become fixated on the woman's alluring lips, and diverted her focus, touching Angela's chin gently and easing the water in. She could see Angela's neck swallowing, and again, it was a strange point of interest for the young woman attempting to assist.

Suddenly, however, Angela's nanomachines kicked in once more, and she twitched, causing some water to splash over her. Fareeha quickly used her hand to wipe the remnants up, feeling the warmth of Angela's skin returning just so.

'How…embarrassing.'

'It's fine. Really. You've been through quite the ordeal.'

'I couldn't…let you have all the fun, could I?'

'I would've rather you did, Angela.'

'At this point…I might have to agree with you.'

'I'm glad you seem to be doing well.'

'Yes. I'm past the worst of it…it seems. I will need to do some work on my body, however, for…for I can tell I've lost a great deal of my…healing capabilities…for the moment.'

Fareeha loved talking with Angela, but she could tell the woman was pushing herself, and she couldn't continue to be greedy.

'No, Fareeha. I _want_ you here. It…it helps.'

'Am I so obvious?'

'Very.'

'Then I will stay.'

'Please do.'

A beat, but then Angela turned her face so she could look directly at Fareeha. Their eyes met, and there was a silent exchange Fareeha herself couldn't hear. She wondered if Angela could. The other woman began speaking, regardless.

'A favour…for the dying?'

'Don't talk like that.'

'My apologies. A crude…joke.'

'But yes. Anything within my power.'

'I… _do_ need to rest, it seems.'

'Good girl.'

'However…Might you…simply rest your hand…on my shoulder as I do so?'

'I-I can.'

'Subconsciously knowing you're here…it will help, as the others have likely ascertained…based on your presence…'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Heheh…Thank-you…'

'Of course. It's nothing.'

'It's not…nothing. It's deserving…of a reward, one might say…'

'Being able to comfort you in your time of need is reward enough for me.'

'Ever the charmer…Here is another gift for your service, however. A piece of honesty…from a woman who tries to hide such things so…'

'Angela…?'

'It's only fair, and I am feeling somewhat…as delirious, perhaps…'

'I don't understand, Angela.'

'I don't either, to be…perfectly honest. But…I shall admit this, at least, yes?' Angela cracked her eyes open one last time before giving her body over to rest and recovery for hours more. 'I also…think…you're beautiful.'

 _Arms…_

'I…thought you deserved something special for your first frivolous night in quite some time. You've been in Iraq for so long, living in such trying conditions. And then, you return to Overwatch only to be hurt so terribly. You give so much for others that I can only do such little favours to try and show how much I appreciate your efforts and work.'

'My…You flatter me…But the effort doesn't go unnoticed. You have a way of making a girl feel something like a princess. Did you know that?'

'I would gladly play the role of a knight if it means giving you such a reaction.'

'You would make a very attractive knight, I suspect.'

'But nothing in comparison to the matchless beauty you would encompass as a princess.'

'Shall we humour that word for a moment?'

'Er…which one?'

'Beauty. Or, more accurately, "beautiful".'

'S-sure.'

'Do you recall calling me "beautiful", Fareeha?'

'I…did what?'

'When you were hospitalized after your mission in China you claimed you could only think of me when your objective was nearly compromised. You then went on to say I was "beautiful". You don't recall?'

'I don't.'

'Ah. I see. The words of the delusional. We are similar, it would seem, you and – '

'But it was the truth. It's what I think, Angela.'

'I-I see.'

 _Head…_

'When I was on business in Japan a few years back, I learned that they make quite the spectacle over such an exchange.'

'Hm?'

'That is…an indirect kiss. We just participated in such a phenomenon. How do you feel about that, Fareeha?'

'How _should_ I feel, Angela?'

 _No response._

'Fareeha…'

'I'm sorry. I used your card to get you settled. I was trying not to wake you.'

'It is quite alright. Did you…carry me all the way from the garage?'

'Yes. I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries.'

'N-not at all. I'm…impressed.'

'Oh, good. You should rest.'

'Yes…I suppose.'

'Goodnight, Angela.'

'Goodnight…'

'Sleep well.'

'I'm sure I will.'

'A-Angela…!?'

'Forgive me…Conclusion: I care about you so very, very deeply.'

 _Agent…_

And yet, when she thought the night was over, and she was rewarded enough with the mere opportunity to carry Angela (like the princess she was in Fareeha's mind) back to her room, Fareeha was satisfied. Did her chest ache somewhat from the possible fact that she and Angela may only stay friends? Of course. She was past the point of attempting to deny what she felt. But she cared about Angela so much that her happiness and comfort is what mattered, at the end of the day.

Perhaps that's why what Angela did just before Fareeha was about to leave took her mind to a euphoric place she didn't know existed. A kiss. Angela kissed her. Fareeha thought she knew what it meant to kiss someone. She was wrong. The moment – the second – Fareeha felt Angela's lips on her own, a surge of electricity fueled by affection jolted her to the core. When Angela's mouth began to open as Fareeha held her slender waist she, perhaps shamefully, considered how she was going to somehow navigate the unknown world of making love to another woman, because Fareeha wanted to. She truly did. So enraptured was she by Angela that having any form of caution seemed completely ludicrous.

 _Ph-Ph…_

'You joined Overwatch even though I told you not to. I am not angry about that. No. I had my apprehensions, but Angela spoke very highly of you. Very highly. What choice did I have but to take her words as truth, for I'm something of a genius, but her abilities extend beyond brilliance measurable. Granted, I put up a stink, as my pride always does. However, I toiled her words in my mind, and decided the coward's way wouldn't be _my_ way again.'

'Angela…'

'You and she have developed an incredible friendship. Incredible because I've never seen that woman connect with or care about someone like she does you. Obviously, she is a wonderful individual, ever challenging science in the attempt to better humanity's quality of life, but there has always – always – been a barrier around her heart and personal life. All of us are pleased to see she has found a true friend she seems to trust and respect. I don't know how you did it, but I certainly encourage the comradery. I know how important such relations can be.'

Fareeha nodded silently. Talking with her mother again was nothing short of wonderful, and she knew it was best not to hold a grudge, no matter how natural it would be to do. She simply wanted to value the reality Ana was, in fact, alive. She wasn't a child anymore. She wouldn't act like one. Ana was obviously human, too, and in a bizarre way, it was somewhat nice to know she was flawed at times as well.

'Angela…is very important to me.'

… _ar…_

'My apologies.' Angela mumbled.

'For what?'

'For suggesting I wanted you anywhere but by my side in this moment.'

Fareeha's hands went to Angela's arms.

'So, it wasn't a mistake?'

'Goodness no. I meant it when I said I cared about you, Fareeha. But…I am also rather unsure how to proceed. You see, I have never reciprocated feelings such as these before.'

'I am not exactly an expert either, but…'

'Oh, my! You're positively adorable!'

'I'm not. Stop it.'

'You're trying not to smile profusely! Heheh!'

'It's…impossible to prevent it. Ugh!'

'Hahah! Are you _that_ pleased at the prospect of being with me?'

… _ah._

'Of course, I am!' Fareeha admitted, heat filling her cheeks. 'How could I not be? All I hear is how you've locked your heart away and how you've never entertained more than one date with a man. What hope did I dare to have when these feelings took me over? The girl that always seemed so far away, on another plain of existence altogether, for whatever reason humours the idea of being in some kind of relationship with _me_!? I fear what form of balance my life will demand to level the joy my heart resonates this very second.'

 _Agent Phar…_

'You can talk to me, Fareeha. It's what I want. I always wish to hear your thoughts.'

'My…mother approached me last night.'

'Pardon!?'

'Y-yes. She's alive…it would seem.'

'Oh, Fareeha. How are you doing? Please, do not hold back on my account. No amount of fatigue could prevent me from being here for you. Goodness, Ana. I told her to reveal herself sooner rather than later.'

'It's fine. I'm fine.' Fareeha shook her head, grinning crookedly. 'She explained herself. I'm trying to understand what she was going through. It's…not easy, I'll admit, but knowing she's okay, well, that helps.'

'You are showing your maturity, Ms. Amari. It's rather beautiful.' Angela encouraged, moving her hand from Fareeha's and stroking her arm until she could feel the woman's lovely skin prickling from the touch. 'But frustration and anger are allowed as well, so long as they are harnessed with that same level-headedness. Why, conducting my work on Widowmaker, for example, somewhat tested my emotions as well.'

'Hm? How so? Has she hurt one of your loved ones as well?'

'Quite! She hurt you, in a sense, did she not?'

'O-oh. Really?'

'This is not a one-sided fancy, Fareeha. How might I convince you of that? I admire your courage. Your independence. Your work ethic. Your consideration for others. I think you're simply a specimen of universal aesthetic appeal. Your hair.' Angela combed through the black strands with her fingers. 'Your eyes. Your mouth. Heh. Your chin.'

'My chin?'

'It's very powerful in appearance. I very much adore it.'

'You flatter me…'

… _ah._

'I-I'm…lacking an undergarment at the moment…' She blushed, grinning slyly but so clearly nervous and excited at once.

'A lucky turn of events for me, then.'

'I've never…W-well, you are aware. I understand the procedure well enough, and yet, I am quite anxious.'

'Then we don't go further than this for now, Angela. I do not mind. There will always be time later.'

'As always, your consideration remains lovely, but I do believe it's time I allow something of this nature to transpire in my life; especially when my feelings for you only seem to be growing with this pleasing interaction. The first time I saw your body, Fareeha, I'll admit, I found it very intriguing. It stirred a sensation in me I hadn't experienced before.'

'A-ah…'

'Naughty, naughty, Fareeha Amari. I rather _like_ such adorable sounds. Please do not muffle them.'

Had a man ever brought such sensations? Was Fareeha truly ever putty in their hands? Did she ever have to restrain her longings with as much dedication as this moment demanded? Hardly. Not at all. Not even a little.

 _Not…_

'Ah…H-hah…'

'Just…tell me when to stop.'

Closer. Closer. She was so smooth.

'O-oh…Fareeha…Are you…?'

There.

'Mm! Hmph…Mm! Ngh…U-uh…Hah…hah…Mm…' Angela's hips moved within Fareeha's touch, but her tone had altered suddenly, and Fareeha became hyper aware of the strange shift.

'Hah…' Angela parted from Fareeha out of seemingly nowhere, her brow wetter than Fareeha thought, and her breaths wheezing out of her. She grabbed hold of Fareeha's wrists, and groaned in seeming pain, causing panic to the other girl. When had this change occurred? How hadn't Fareeha noticed?

'Angela? Are you alright?'

… _responding._

'Thinking back, I'm almost guaranteed to be approached this time as well, considering the consistency of such interactions from the past.'

'Did you ever take any of them up on their offers?'

'Well, it's nothing I haven't told you before. I entertained an outing or two following presentations such as this one, but they never extended beyond that. Ah! In fact, I had one brave soul attempt to take me directly back to his hotel room. _That_ was his idea of a date, apparently. He was somewhat fetching, so perhaps that's why, but I ended it right then and there. I recall the look on his face clearly.'

'Heh. I can imagine.'

'The only person that has been even slightly sexually active with me, Fareeha…is you.'

 _Final…_

'Is everything alright, Angela?'

'I just…I want to be with you…'

'I'm right here.'

'I wish to feel you. All of you.'

'All of…?'

… _check._

'God…Angela…Oh…O-oh…!'

 _B-b…_

'What you did for me today, Ms. Amari, made me want to do this.'

'Really…?'

'Quite. Because it also made me realize something very important.'

'O-oh?'

'It's nothing to be concerned about. However, I _do_ hesitate to tell you. It's a frightening claim, I'll have you aware; especially for me.'

'Can you tell me?'

' _I love you_.'

'Um…Pardon?'

'Fareeha Amari, I'm in love with you. I love you. I truly, honestly do. You…are everything I could ever want in a partner, friend, and lover. It took thirty-seven years, but I can earnestly say, with no semblance of doubt in my mind, that it was inarguably worth every second of delay.'

'Angela…!'

'Perhaps I am making the claim a touch prematurely in some eyes, but I care not. What I feel cannot be denied. It…terrifies me, but I won't allow that to hurt you again. I only wish to make you as happy as you make me, and thus, I could only think to start with this; a moment interrupted now fulfilled.'

'No. Not yet.'

'Fareeha…'

… _zzt._

'That was wonderful. You were so charming and kind. I felt you in every act, and it only made the event ever the more lovely. I couldn't have asked for better for my first time, Fareeha.'

'It…seemed so natural for me, surprisingly. I was comfortable doing anything I could for you, and I easily understood what you wanted as we went along. Heheh. I enjoyed being with you very, very much.'

'Was _my_ service…acceptable?'

'I didn't last long, did I?'

'I am not sure.'

'Trust me; I don't think it's ever happened so quickly for me. Never with a man. Sometimes not even with myself.'

'Oh? You do such things, Fareeha?'

'You don't?'

'When I was younger and as curious as ever, I suppose, but I can't recall since.'

'Unbelievable.'

'The thought of you performing the act of masturbation is rather arousing, I must admit.'

'Angela! Do you have to be so blunt?'

'Hm? Is that the incorrect term?'

'Well, no, but still…'

'Ah! You are embarrassed. That seems reasonable, but it's only me.'

'True. Very true.'

There was a calming silence between the two women, the warmth of one another's body soothing, and the completed acts between them causing fatigue and the urge to rest within a gentle embrace. Fareeha's eyelids were weighing her down even then, and for a split second, she feared she would awake from this dream that she couldn't simply accept as her present reality.

'You never responded to me, by the by, Ms. Amari.'

'Hm?'

'I do not expect you to have the exact same feelings, but where you stand in relation to me would be nice to know.'

'Oh!' Fareeha couldn't believe she forgot to actually answer the doctor verbally. It was an emotion she had harboured for what felt like forever, and saying it aloud just didn't cross her mind since she felt it was worn on her sleeve at all times. Still, Angela clearly needed some form of response, and Fareeha stroked her pretty blonde hair as she smiled wide, her cheeks hurting she was so full of unfiltered happiness.

'Angela, my princess, I am quite certain I've been in love since the moment I first lay eyes on you.'

 _B-b…_

'Fareeha isn't only my bodyguard, I might add. I am quite proud to say she is my girlfriend as well.'

… _eep._

'What was that for?'

'What have you done to me, Fareeha Amari?'

'I'm afraid I'll need more context.'

'I can hardly stand the sight of you conversing with a relatively attractive male! Jealousy. Envy. Possessiveness. I was consumed by them all. It physically hurt my chest the more I observed. He was clearly smitten with you, and it took everything in my power not to intercept the interaction more aggressively than I would ever dream. Really. It was absolutely vexing! I've never felt such things! _It's frustrating!_ '

'He's decent looking enough, but I have zero interest, Angela. My eyes only wish to look at you with any form of affection.'

'I'm sure that's true…However, the reality is that I shall never be capable of taking you as a man could. There's an exponential difference between what I am capable of and what the opposite sex is capable of. It has always been on my mind, to a degree, but this "friend" of yours truly drove the fact home, and the more I fall for you, the more problematic it somehow becomes.'

'Angela…Truthfully, I find much more comfort in playing something of a "male" oriented role in our relationship than I ever did submitting in any way to someone like him.'

' _Pardon?_ '

'Um…'

'You've slept with that man?'

'He…was my first, I guess.'

'I see.' Angela responded quietly. 'I see.'

'Are you upset?'

'I…am. I am. But…only because I love you so much, I am assuming. Yes. I am…hating the fact you have been with others romantically besides myself. Seeing someone personally who has bedded you…is so…utterly…Forgive me.' Angela uttered between tiny sobs. 'I'm being so unreasonable. Hah…' She exhaled long and deeply. 'The matters of the heart prove to be ever so challenging. Logistically, I have no…no grounds to stand on. I'm being perfectly irrational. But…b-but on the other hand…'

Angela whipped around and wrapped her arms around Fareeha, squeezing her as tightly as her slender build could manage.

'You're _mine_!'

'I'm not going anywhere, Angela. Your side is where I wish to remain as long as you let me.'

'…Affirmative.' She answered meekly. 'And I'm sorry…again.'

 _Bzzt._

She was that important already. What Fareeha felt for Angela was on par with her feelings for her mother and the reality that she had been killed. If she lost Angela…The thought was mortifying. She was already her best friend. She had never been more honest and comfortable with anyone in her life. They had made love, and it was perfect.

 _Beep._

Blood was pooling within a grotesque hole that had been caked to her blonde mane. It was above her left eye. The bleeding wasn't stopping. Fareeha's suit was getting soaked from the other end of the wound as well. A puncture wound that penetrated Angela's head? Her skull? Her…brain?

Fareeha frantically ripped a piece of Angela's dress from the base and applied as much pressure as her weakened state could.

 _No. No. No. No. No. No…!_

'Angela?' Fareeha sobbed. 'Angela…?'

A white, shattering, ear-piercing ringing made Fareeha wince.

'Angela…!'

And the angel's small breaths ceased altogether.

 _Bzzt._

'Are…you going to be okay, Angela…?'

'In the moment, I do believe so.'

'But…?'

'Heh. But…I may have a troubling future. Moira could make an educated guess…almost immediately. And I suppose our friend Zenyatta…has gathered some form of insight upon…caring for me.'

'W-what is it?' Fareeha clenched her fists, waiting for the blow.

The following pause almost made her crumble, but once more, Zenyatta's voice was like that of the gentlest Gods in any form of lore.

'Angela Ziegler's body is decaying from within. While her age appears stagnant, her inner workings are displaying signs of fatigue and strain like none I have ever witnessed. These "nanomachines" utilize a form of energy similar to that of an omnic, and due to this, I can somewhat adequately communicate with them as though they were something of a singular entity. They are tired. They are breaking down. They cannot keep up with Angela Ziegler's demands for much longer.'

No more. Please, no more.

'Put simply, with every "revive", Angela Ziegler is willingly giving up her life to save another. Such an act can only demand a similarly devastating toll.'

This isn't real. It can't be.

'I have heard legends of a Goddess capable of resurrecting a small group of soldiers from the very edge of destruction. You have since made claim of being unable to perform such miracles any further. However, I suspect you may have determined the demands of such a feat, and have since re-evaluated what you should and should not enact accordingly. How many years does such an interruption of Fate's work cost you, Angela Ziegler?'

Years? Fate? Toll? Cost? No. No. No. No.

 _Beep._

'You…are the first I've told of this. I ask you keep it between us, if you would be so kind.'

Fareeha nodded, wondering what else Angela could tell her beyond her shortening lifespan that could be so secret. As Angela prepared to go on, the tears were already pouring from her ocean-blue eyes, and the pain they personified clawed into Fareeha's chest. Angela was breaking before she even began, and Fareeha wasn't even sure she was permitted to touch her hand or anything she seemed so dishevelled.

'H-hah…I'm sorry. I…I had a sister growing up. Her name…w-was Gloria. She was…everything to me in a tumultuous upbringing that attempted to govern my every waking hour…'

A sister!?

'I lost her. I-if I had taken my lessons in earnest up until that point…I could have… I could have saved her, I'm sure. I could save her now. But I lost her, and…it's the grandest failure and regret…of my life. Thus, and it hurts me to say this, Fareeha, because you're the only person in the world who has come even close to changing my mind, I will never – _never_ – turn a blind eye from someone in need. I owe it to the world. I owe it…to my sweet…loving Gloria…'

'I…didn't know.'

'Of course, you didn't. I've wiped such information from existence. Very few key persons in my life are aware of my past. I wish to keep it that way. If Moira knew…if any of our enemies knew just how weak I become in the face of such truths…I fear how it would be used against me.'

'Yet…you tell me.'

'Fareeha. Since our first interactions I felt something akin to that emotion I held for only my late sister. That feeling has since grown and evolved into something only the restrictive word "love" can hope to contain even partially. Gloria…will always have a place in my heart, and none have ever threatened that space…until you. If I were to lose you, I doubt I would recover again.'

'Then understand that I feel the same for you, Angela. Please, _please_ do not put yourself at risk anymore. I…I won't stop you from reviving others at the expense of your own life. How could I now? But I already submitted a request to speak with Jack personally. You can't be expected to perform such a risk ever again.'

Angela gripped Fareeha's hand, understanding coming over her as she leaned in, resting her forehead against the other woman's softly.

'Understood, Fareeha. You're…quite right. I would be a hypocrite to deny you this request. I would never forgive myself if I put you through a semblance of what I endured due to the loss of Gloira. Y-yes. Understood, Fareeha. My best friend. My perfect lover. My knight…in shining, Raptora armour.'

 _Sending…final…log…_

'What's this?'

'Nothing at all…I'm just quite pleased to be with you. I missed you profusely.'

'The feeling is mutual, Angela. They are making use of my suit and abilities, let me tell you.'

'That's good though, I suppose. This was your dream.'

'Part of it, yes. A little more than a quarter of what I want from life right now.'

'Oh? Do tell what the other parts of the equation are.'

'A life with you, mostly.'

'My! Is that a proposal?'

'Hm. Not yet. It's still a little early for that, isn't it?'

Angela bit at her lip.

'It is. Very much so.'

'You have made me very proud, Fareeha. Have I told you that recently?'

'You may have…'

'I don't think so. I suspect you don't wish to make a spectacle of your achievements, but they are to be commended. To rise to the Master class so hastily upon recently joining Overwatch. Why, few can claim such success. Save another doctor or two, or perhaps pull a team of agents through a second, seemingly impossible challenge and you may stand with the rest of the leaders as a Grandmaster sooner rather than later. Although, they only allow ten Grandmasters at a time, for the pay increase is quite impressive.'

'Yes. It is a great accomplishment. _You_ are the one at this table who should be admired first and foremost.'

'I was gifted from a young age, Fareeha. There's a difference. I harnessed my natural abilities, and the results were to be expected with any amount of effort on my part. True, I dedicated my life to my research, and thus, I was rewarded, but the foundation was there from birth. I was lucky.'

'My mother is a legendary sniper. Her battle instincts rest within me. I can feel them. We're not so different.'

'But your success is due to your selflessness, bravery, and strength; all of which you have consciously and committedly developed. _That_ is why I am proud. _That_ is why I look upon you and am filled with unparalleled joy for having such a woman as my partner.'

'…I am glad only because it means we are not so far apart.'

Angela shook her head with a sigh, smiling.

'I love you very much, Fareeha. Shall we simply leave it at that?'

'I would appreciate it.'

'And…?'

'I love you, too…'

'Stay…'

'I am not going anywhere.'

'Stay with me, Fareeha…'

'I intend to.'

 _Fareeha Amari. Codename: Pharah…Deceased._

 _Final…image log…sent._

A sinking, crippled hand engulfed in red reaching up…up…up…

…praying for the angel to take it.


	63. LXIII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

She assumed the air blowing upon her face was cool, but Widow couldn't be sure. All she knew was that she needed this solitude and time to reflect. Within the next twenty-four hours she would be on another mission; one that she could only guess would be more dangerous than not. She almost prayed it would be risky, because at least then it would further validate her actions in relation to Lena and Emily.

A chill ran Widow's spine, and her body instinctively shivered.

The influence of the wine had faded. The images of what transpired remained. Did Widow regret becoming so involved with Lena to this extent? No. Not precisely. Did she expect to feel such a powerful connection to the girl even after the fact? She had hoped not, yet here she was, contemplative and aching.

Making love to a woman had been beyond her. Making love to two women was even more of a stretch. Yet, Widow had purposely allowed a pair of young ladies into her life on a powerfully intimate level, and although her emotions were muddled, she ultimately didn't dislike what had occurred. Emily, in her mind, was an extension of Lena, and becoming close to her as rapidly as Widow had was at once disconcerting but not entirely surprising.

Thus, Widow had desired to make love to Lena, and Emily was an unconventional addition to that longing, perhaps even the filter she needed to go through with the notion.

Did Widow love Emily? No. Of course, not. Did she love Lena? That answer remained difficult to commit to. Indeed, Widow's loosely created plan had backfired frightfully. She wanted to be revolted, disgusted, and repelled. It was the only logical result of accepting Emily's proposal. However, Widow's body had become aflame, and having not only Lena but Emily give her attention sexually was the height of pleasure and erotic release. They were good lovers. Disarmingly skilled.

Gerard was not a bad sexual partner, from what Widow could tell, for he was her one and only male mate, but the intense knowledge Lena and Emily commanded when giving a woman rapturous fulfillment couldn't be denied. The way Lena had taken Widow _still_ caused her groin discomfort in an aroused fashion with the mere thought. Her rocking, tiny body. Her aggressive, hungry lips. Her freckles. Her pretty breasts. The way her tongue had wrapped around Widow's. Emily wasn't unwelcome as well, really. Surprisingly. Widow shocked herself with how willing she was to actively participate in the "threesome", as Lena had so crudely called it. It was a session full of unbridled passion, and Widow appreciated the raw, authentic display of physical attraction manifested. It was the first time after so long she felt so very safe. Trust was a rare commodity for her as of late, and therefore, she cherished the event as one she could revel in without consequence.

Thus, her own anxiety confused her. Why couldn't she sleep any longer? Why did her body fuzz with irritation? How could she explain how painful her chest was?

Widow turned on the balcony of Emily's apartment, finding the girl on the other side of the sliding window, a large, white t-shirt her only choice of clothing, the material reaching just midway down her pretty thighs. She waved gingerly, her hair quite a mess, and Widow opened the glass that separated them.

'Hey, Luv. Mind a partner in crime?'

Widow nodded slowly to the redhead, wondering if perhaps she could help her with the bizarre predicament.

'Brrr. A bit chilly out here, huh?'

'I wouldn't know.'

'Right. The whole feeling thing. Seemed to do okay a little while ago though. That's good.'

'It's still somewhat numb, but yes, I certainly "felt" what was happening to my body.'

A pause that only had the quiet racket of King's Row after hours to accompany it.

'You okay?' Emily pried, but Widow didn't mind.

'Mostly, yes.'

'But here you are.'

Widow looked to the girl briefly, turning back to the dimly lit surrounding city.

'I think you are an agreeable partner for Lena, Emily.'

'Oh? Thanks.'

'She cares very deeply for you.'

'Yeah…Still kinda getting over the fact she's me girlfriend again. Thank goodness.'

'…Indeed.'

'But it's kinda tough.'

'Truly? How so?'

Emily stood next to Widow, placing a hand on hers, gripping it tightly upon the rail.

'You love her, too, Amelie.'

'Don't be absurd.' Widow hissed. 'I thought I made myself clear.'

'So did I, and I was willing to forget what I heard in your tone during our first talk, but what I _saw_ tonight made things a little more obvious.'

' _Don't be ridiculous_.'

' _I'm not. You're ridiculous._ '

Widow almost bit her tongue, staring at Emily dumbfoundedly and extracting her hand from under the girl's.

'Yeah. I heard your little comment, and I could understand it well enough, even if Lena couldn't.' Emily exhaled shakily, meeting Widow's fluctuating eyes. ' _To what could have been…my hero._ Something like that, innit?'

Widow didn't know what to say to the claim, thus, Emily went on.

'And I noticed a couple of other moments you two had.'

'What of them?' Widow grit her teeth, not willing to deny precisely what she knew Emily to be referring to. 'She's yours, Emily. I want nothing more to do with it. As considerate as your little plan is, I doubt I will make use of your compromise anew.'

Emily blinked rapidly, as if fighting back tears. She was quite the attractive young woman, Widow kept noticing. It confused her. When had this shift in perspective occurred?

'Because it hurts too much?' Emily asked, and Widow, once more, had little to say to that.

'…I don't wish to discuss it.'

'Right on the nose, huh? I was hoping I was wrong this time…'

'I…have nothing more to say.'

'I don't think that's wise.' Emily stepped in a little closer. 'Clear the air with me, at least. Talking helps. It really does. I'll listen free of charge. What do you think?'

'I think you are the north star to Overwatch's sun. A perfect lover for that foolish girl. Why do you insist on troubling yourself over me?'

'Because Lena cares about you, of course.' Emily rubbed her eyes with a sigh. 'That makes you automatically someone I'm concerned about. It's the same for you, right? You _really_ don't seem like the type to make love to someone you just met, especially after everything you've been through, but there we were last night, kissing and a whole lot more. You know why?'

Widow didn't want to say it, but she half suspected Emily was reading her correctly; as right as the moment they had met, this intelligent woman of Lena's.

'Because _that's_ how much you treasure Lena. She loved me. Hopefully still does. So, considering how close you are to her now, it only makes sense that you and I match up so well. You _want_ to like me, because that's what makes Lena happy in your eyes. You can't give her what she wants right now. You want to go off and figure things out before you can even consider Lena as a partner. But,' Emily wiped her reddening eyes. 'I think you should honestly mull it over. I'm not lying to you.'

'Why…on earth would I do such a thing?'

'The same reason you put yourself out there tonight.' Emily smiled distantly, shrugging. 'Because you want our little troublemaker to be happy no matter what. Isn't that right?'

Widow flinched back, touching her own flipping chest. This girl was quite the annoyance.

'Pretty good at this now, huh?' Emily leaned over the railing, staring out over the city. 'I've read so many stories, met so many people – fictitious and not – so, I guess it only makes sense. I get a grip on things real quick. You're a pretty unique case, don't get me wrong, but you're something of a hot and cold kinda lady. Sexiness all around, but just a big ol' softy beneath it all.'

'Hmph. Prattling on as if you know anything.' Widow stood close to Emily, glancing down at her small shoulders and frame. Images of the body within the material teased Widow's desires, and she looked over the city in frustration. 'Do tell me this, then: why on earth am I suddenly capable of finding pleasure in another woman? The concept utterly revolted me prior, yet here I remain, imagining the occasion's encore with both you and that terrible girl.'

'Heh. You're adorable.' Emily rested her head on her arm, giggling toward Widow, making her blush.

'I am not…'

'Sure, you are. You just can't be honest with yourself, and it's cute.'

'You are making light of my question.'

'Oh, believe me; I know exactly what you're feeling…mostly. I mean, I wasn't married or anything before Lena, but I'd been with a couple of guys. None that made me feel like I did the first date I went on with her though, that's for sure.'

'And…what did you feel?'

Emily raised a brow, nudging Widow gently with apprehension in her chocolate eyes.

'A connection, silly. A real, honest connection.'

'A…connection?'

'Can I ask you something personal?'

'I believe you have that right considering our actions a few hours ago.' Widow grinned nervously.

'I enjoyed myself, by the way. That was bloody amazing. Yeah, what was happening between you and Lena kinda bugs me, not going to lie, but my God you're a beautiful woman. Never had more than one person in bed though, and I truthfully do like you. Sorta wish I didn't, in a way.'

'I…can understand that.'

'You seemed to have fun, too.'

'…Quite.' Widow's face was prickling. She was embarrassed to talk about it in detail. 'Regardless, what was your question?'

'Right.' Emily winked. 'Um…You don't have to answer, of course, but I want to ask if you ever felt a real connection to your late husband.'

'Gerard?' Widow thought about the man, and the wave of recently realized dissatisfaction irked her. She had loved him; still did, to an extent. Yet, she wouldn't be married to him now, she suspected. His passing tore at her soul, for they had a happy enough marriage, with a child on the way to further cement their lives into conventional progress, but her perspective had shifted dramatically. _She_ had changed dramatically.

'Tricky stuff, right?'

'Perhaps…'

'That's what I'm talking about, then. With Lena I can be me. Completely. Totally. She's so bloody honest – almost to a fault – that I can only act the same way in return. I think that's what _you_ like about her as well. How many deep, brutally unfiltered conversations did you have with Gerard?'

Widow swallowed, her neck tight. Not many. Hardly any. Work. Social gatherings. Progress. Sex. Marriage. Children. It was the natural line to be followed. She was allowing him to lead without question. Amelie's upbringing assured her all was well. Her parents approved. Gerard approved. Who was she to question the status quo? Life was simply a checklist of accomplishments society deemed correct. The more boxes filled, the better you are at living.

Lena denied all of that. Everything. And she was one of the happiest persons Widow had ever known.

'Lena spoke of a similar subject at one point…' Widow almost whispered.

'Because she wants to know everything about you. She wants to make _you_ happy as well, and she knows the only way to do that right is to have those deep, meaningful talks. I bloody love talking to her. I love knowing what she's thinking. She _listens_ to me. She wants to know my ideas and views on practically everything. She respects me. She obviously cares about me. She thinks I'm beautiful and is such a good lover. Like, Jesus, it's incredible being with her. She lights up the room every single time, and I just feel so strongly for her.'

Widow nodded slowly, frightened by how much she agreed.

'You're the same as me.' Emily didn't ask, and Widow couldn't refuse it anymore. 'Except, you need time to figure _yourself_ out before you can even think about being with her. So, you push her away, knowing it's the best way not to hurt either of you. Damage control. It's kind of you.'

Widow remained silent, reflecting on the sheer amount of time she had spent with Lena up until this point and what it meant to her.

'I…don't know what to say.' She admitted. 'Why would you ever complicate your own life like this?'

'Heh. I'm asking myself the same thing.' Emily scratched the back of her head. 'Maybe because it's what Lena would do? I don't want her to be mine because she felt like there was no other choice. I want her to _choose_ me.'

'She already has, Emily.'

'And I couldn't be happier, but…' Emily furtively glanced at Widow. 'Who knows what the future holds, I guess? I…still want you in our lives. Honestly.'

Widow's eyes began to burn.

'Why would you ever want that?'

'Because you deserve a friend or two after what you've been through. I'm here for you, Amelie. It's totally daft, I know, but Lena's rubbed off on me. A hero wouldn't just manipulate their way into a situation. She'll be mine fair and square.'

'I…' Widow shook her head. 'Thank-you.'

'But don't wait too long, Ms. Lacroix. Give me too much of a lead and you might be in trouble.'

'It's fine.' Widow chuckled. 'First and foremost, I need time to myself after all of this.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes.'

'Well,' Emily fidgeted on the spot. 'If you ever want some stress relief, you know where to find us, right?'

'Heh.' Widow imagined the scenario, and somehow, perhaps because of the two other women involved, it just wasn't as ludicrous as an outside observer might assume. 'I shall keep your kind offer in mind after all, I suppose.' She bumped Emily with her hip, feeling awkward as she did so but fancying the adolescent frivolity of the action. 'If you truly wish to put your relationship at risk, that is.'

'Maybe I'm just confident. Ever think of that?'

'You have every reason to be.' Widow agreed, and Emily's face reddened in the moonlight.

'Jeez. It doesn't work if you're so nice about it all. I was just teasing.'

'I know.' Widow smiled.

A final, tranquil beat, and Emily shivered at last, wrapping her arms around herself.

'I'm gonna get back to bed. You coming?'

'In a moment.'

'Okay. Goodnight, Amelie.'

'Goodnight.'

The sliding window closed tightly, and Widow breathed out a little easier. It was much less stressful to settle on a truth when one had actively been denying it for so long. She wouldn't personally use the word "love", but it was certainly something similar. She needed time once the battle was over. Only then would she have a solidified notion of what she wanted Lena to be in her life. And by then, perhaps she wouldn't even have a choice, and that was fine. If it was Emily, at least Widow knew the girl she had somehow, someway – against all odds – fallen for was being taken care of adequately.

'Lena Oxton,' Widow murmured to the night. 'I do not love you…' She reflected on what she had been and how the young woman had saved her time and time again, a deep, powerful emotion coming over her. A feeling she had never allowed herself to encounter before.

'But I care about you ever so intimately…'

King's Row. A tragic end to a legacy. A hopeful beginning for a killer.


	64. LXIV: Mercy

Mercy

 _'Dr. Ziegler! Dr. Ziegler! We're here! We've brought your patient!'_

 _'Is he unconscious?'_

 _'…Dead, Doctor.'_

 _'Pardon?'_

 _'Strangled in his own home. We flew him here as soon as the body was found.'_

 _'Gerard…'_

 _'So, you've heard already?'_

 _'I read the report hours ago. But…'_

 _'We worked very closely with him, Doctor. He was on the brink of bringing Talon down. You_ must _save him!'_

 _'…'_

 _'Doctor!'_

 _'…Cover him back up. There's nothing I can do. Give him a proper burial for goodness sake.'_

 _'But you can revive the dead! You're legendary for it!'_

 _'Fictitious tales woven from hearsay. I can do no such thing.'_

 _'What!?'_

 _'Surely you were told when stating your reason for coming to me.'_

 _'…We assumed it was ignorance on the guard's part.'_

 _'Indeed. Thus, they allowed you to hear it from my mouth personally. How considerate.'_

 _'Can't you at least try? You've done such a thing before, haven't you?'_

 _'No. I can bring humans back from the_ edge _of death, but there is a highly sensitive timeframe to which I can perform such a miracle. Not only that, but…'_

 _'What is it?'_

 _'Nothing. Nothing at all.'_

 _'Then…Gerard…'_

 _'He was a good man. A valuable agent. If I could, I would, but once the spark of life vanishes, there is nothing I can do. Nothing whatsoever…'_

* * *

Fareeha was successfully pulled out from the sea by Casino. Angela couldn't remember much after that. Her body denied her, sending her into mental recovery long enough for her to awaken in a medical facility of some kind. She sprung up from the bed, slightly sore from the battle prior, but more panicked than she was accustomed to.

'Angela!' Hana popped up from a chair nearby.

'Where's Fareeha?' Angela asked – nearly demanding to know.

'Oh…um…'

'Where is she?' Her voice cracked, the world fading in and out of focus.

'She's…in the operation room, but…'

'Show me.'

Perhaps Dva was under the same disillusion that the world wished to believe. Dr. Angela Ziegler could revive the dead. A miracle worker. A lie built on hope and fantasy. She could save the dying. She could mend wounds thought impossible to cure within such a short period of time, but death was all encompassing. Not even she could deny it. Delay it, surely, and that's why she was so notorious, but certainly not stop it entirely.

Not even for the woman of her dreams and the love of her life.

'Show me…please.' Angela begged.

'Okay. But…it's bad. Really bad.'

Hold the tears. She had cried enough. Her throat hurt she had screamed so deliriously. Focus on what could be done. So long as there was a fragment of life left in her, Angela would pour her entire being into saving Fareeha Amari.

She was brought through the hospital, not even noticing the way she was stared at. Admired. Gawked. Envied. Two incredible women moving side by side, hardly being questioned when approaching the operation room. They were allowed access immediately, likely due to the fact no operation was truly taking place.

'Let me see her.' Angela commanded, placing a hand over her chest and feeling the dog tag beneath her armour.

No less than four doctors stepped away from the table, and Angela held her breath. She noted the pile of armour nearby. The Raptora suit. It was in shambles. Hints of the blue and gold remained, but otherwise, a sickening crimson caked too much of the thing.

No…

Angela scanned the projected monitors, consuming the information they provided. Collapsed lung. Broken spine. Traumatic brain damage.

God, no…

Punctured liver. Broken arm. Broken neck.

Please. Not again…

Severe puncture wounds to the head, neck, shoulder, arm, and hip. Primarily left side.

Why…?

Internal bleeding. Heart failure. Multiple causes of death.

Angela didn't feel the ground when her knees slammed into it. She gripped at the bed her knight lay upon and pulled herself up, Hana at her side and saying something, but none of it registering.

'H-how…long…?' Angela whimpered hysterically.

'What do you mean?' Dva responded gently.

'Since time…of death?'

A beat, but one of the doctors answered with a thick accent eventually.

'It's been estimated she died almost immediately upon impact. The armour softened the blow slightly, but it also pierced her body when it broke apart from the attack. There was nothing we could do…'

Angela closed her eyes, pulling herself up and knowing the tears were coming. She couldn't not think about her lover. Her kind smile. Her gallant mannerisms. Her strong presence. Her considerate attitude. Her gentle touch. Her dark eyes. Her sincere love and interest in Angela. Her fascination with music. Her complex relationship with her mother. Her desire to protect the innocent. Her bravery. Her awkwardness. Her honesty.

'Ah…' Angela's body prickled, and she opened her eyes, a blow pounding her stomach, ripping into her bowels and pulling out her organs as she covered her mouth, dry heaving at the sight.

Her beautiful, courageous knight had been broken utterly. Not even the haphazard job of bandaging to suppress the blood loss could hide the destruction caused to her entire being. It was too much. The contrast was shattering her soul. The images in Angela's head of this woman weren't aligning with the bloody mess before her. The stillness of her visage tore into the doctor, and she swallowed the vomit threatening to explode from her throat. This young girl had been so affectionate. So loving. So full of ambition and kindness. And here she lay, never to smile again; to look at Angela with a love the doctor hardly thought she would experience for the rest of her life.

'Dr. Ziegler. Would you like some privacy?'

Angela nodded slowly, her cheeks soaked, and her lips sucked in.

'We'll just be outside.' Hana touched Angela's shoulder.

The door slid shut, and Angela let herself release the pent-up despair. She knelt next to the bed, gripping at Fareeha's cold, lifeless hand, squeezing so tightly her own limb went numb.

'Say my name, Fareeha…' She cried. 'Please.'

Nothing.

'Say you love me. Say it in the way that I can do nothing but believe you…'

Silence.

'Take me to a place I thought extinct from my life only to provide me with the opportunity to say "goodbye" proper. Prove again just how impossible it is for me not to love you wholeheartedly back.'

The soldier was unmoving.

'Touch me…' Angela gasped. 'Hold me…'

Not a sound.

'Be by my side…forever…'

She soaked Fareeha's hand with her tears, a fury overtaking the doctor the more she trembled. She asked for so little, yet even then she was forsaken? Truly? How any lives had she saved? How many times did she put herself last? Was it too much to ask for but one person in her life to return home to? One person she could be her total self with? One person to be her best friend? Lover? Partner in life? Was she being mocked? She was a scientist, thus, the notion of ethereal intervention hardly occupied a thought, but the irony of it all was maddening, and Angela grit her teeth, a pulsation pumping through her brain the further her rage took her.

'So be it…' She hissed, knowing this wrath. Feeling it anew. Angela had lost her sister. It was her fault. She accepted that punishment. But this? No. Not this woman. Not Fareeha. Never. Death couldn't have her. Not yet. Not while Mercy drew breath. She wasn't a miracle worker. Science provided her with all her power. But this feat? This task she would pour her soul into? Yes. She would accept that perhaps a spiritual intervention was required.

Whatever the case, she wouldn't give up. Not yet. Not until she tried everything in her power as a legendary hero. As the woman who had saved thousands. Her only wish. Her only request. Her only selfish desire.

'It is my turn to save you, my knight. Save you as you saved me in so many ways.' She stood up, an aura of golden power emanating in direct correlation with her nanomachines speeding into overdrive. She mentally shifted all of her healing abilities into a plain she knew was dangerous. Into a territory she had accidently triggered once in desperation. It had made her ill for days. The recoil was too much. It was in that moment she began to realize her limitations. Her restricted time. Her power's quantitative output in exchange for her own life.

'You're my hero, Fareeha Amari.' Angela uttered, swallowing painfully, the thick power encircling her already demanding so much. 'And heroes…never…die…!'

The moment Angela placed her hands atop Fareeha as she had for Seung-hwa, however, a jolt of seeming electric repellant pushed her back, and the remnants of the charge left her trembling, struggling to breathe.

'What…on earth?' She observed her hands, and noted the strange darkness to them, her body itself literally rejecting the act she wished to attempt.

'Angela?' Hana returned, a couple of the doctors from before joining her.

'No…!' Angela clenched her fists, glaring toward Fareeha's still form and the table it lay over. 'You _will_ do as I say.'

* * *

 _The risks are too great._

' _Nothing_ is too great a risk for her!'

 _Your life will become dramatically compromised._

'What life is there for me without my love?'

 _A life where you continue to save others. Your purpose. Your gift._

'How dare you! After all I've given!?'

 _You're acting the child. What is one person's happiness over hundreds? Thousands? You are not so special._

'Yet, I'm the only one who can do it. Who was willing to do it.'

 _Was?_

' _I_ only have one life. I will not die a martyr. I am not a God. I will fulfill my duty for as long as I am here on this planet, but I will do so while clenching my own source of joy until my dying breath.'

 _For this woman? For this girl you hardly know?_

'I know her better than any other person in my life prior. Even Gloria. Even my dearest sister. There is no mask with Fareeha. No filter. No lies. Nothing. She has seen me; all of me. She has taken me mind, body, and soul. I love her. It is humanity's greatest gift, and I shall not forsake myself further.'

 _What if you are to fall apart? What if you pass on without her?_

'A cruel question to ask.'

 _You would force the agony you currently combat onto her?_

'I won't.'

 _You will. By performing this act – this feat only beings of otherworldly power could hope to achieve – you shorten your life far beyond the current scope. You are, quite literally, giving her the spark which keeps your bodily functions in check._

'By how long?'

 _Many, many years._

'A quantitative number, please.'

 _Not even I would do such a thing._

'Then it is clear we are on the same page, after all.

 _…So, it would seem._

'No more hesitation.'

 _No more doubt._

'I strike down Death this day.'

 _Not just push away._

'I extend my hand to the needy.'

 _Enveloped in a holy light._

'Yet, in this moment – this very second of my one and only life – I give my hand to the one who matters most, selfish as it may be.'

 _It promises a future for many._

'Because now I can fight on as well…'

* * *

The ground was wet, cold, and sticky. She couldn't move. She couldn't hear. She could barely feel. Her head was twitching, spasming. Muffled, deep sounds emanated from around her. She was lifted up, placed on a stretcher, more distant sirens stabbing her mind. A montage of disbelief and fear. Stares of bewilderment; of envy, of hunger, of calculation.

Hana Song. What was she saying? Why couldn't Angela see properly? What was this crimson-black substance seeping out of her pours? Bleeding into her armour? Caking her body in a cold liquid already solidifying? Make the ringing stop. The echoing darkness hurt her ears.

The stretcher shifted, but Hana grabbed hold of it, indicating Fareeha's bed. Angela's vision flurried in and out of moderate focus, but she was moved parallel to the other woman. To Fareeha Amari.

And her heart skipped a beat.

Dark, tired, pained eyes stared back.

* * *

 _Was it worth it?_

Without a singular doubt in my mind.

 _This pain is only the beginning._

So be it. For such pain is nothing when compared to the thought of my life without her.


	65. LXV: Tracer

Tracer

Red. The first colour she registered upon awakening. It had been some time since she recognized such a gift. It felt longer than actuality, however. Lena breathed out through her nose, grinning goofily to herself. She reflected briefly on the night before, and while some lingering apprehensions regarding Widow attempted to thwart her current bliss, she found enough contentment in her present status to fend off the thoughts.

Speaking of which…

Lena glanced to her other side, where the sniper _had_ been, and realized the disappointment to be real when the area was vacant.

'She's taking a shower.' Emily mumbled groggily.

'Oh! That's good.' Lena jumped, not realizing the girl was awake partially.

'Can barely hear her otherwise. She can move without a sound, huh?'

'Well, she's technically one of the world's greatest assassins still…'

'Ooo. Dangerous.'

'The way you like it?' Lena brought Emily close, their legs becoming entangled under the sheets.

'A little.'

They kissed, and Lena held their lips just barely apart, feeling the light brush of Emily's mouth. No more had to be said. Lena glanced in the direction of the washroom, and then back down at Emily, the young woman nodding subtly, nibbling a little on her bottom lip.

'I'll be back safe and sound before you know it.'

'Mm-mm.' Emily rubbed her body against Lena, and it was more than enough. She reached around and behind the girl, massaging her backside and squeezing the plump flesh contained in dainty pink panties, the lace teasing all on its own. Her fingers pressed in between Emily's legs, the warmth inviting and pushing Lena further.

'I'll miss you…' Emily whispered, kissing Lena's ear the way she knew she liked it.

'I'll miss you, too…' Lena answered lowly, deep inside Emily now, her rocking hips upon the time traveler's hand erotically performed.

'H-hah…' Emily moaned. 'More…'

'You got it, Luv.' Lena turned, using both her hands – from behind and the front – to please her girlfriend. The act was simple but incredible in its own right, the intimacy and trust built over quite some time obvious in the way both young women embraced the other.

'I-I'm gonna cum, Lena…' Emily uttered naughtily, knowing Lena enjoyed it when she said such things. 'Ah…a-ah….'

Lena would never tire of the way a woman's body clenched so tightly when pushed to the edge of pleasure, and this moment was no different. Emily bit at Lena's collar, her groin twitching as her nails dug into her girlfriend's back. Widow had reacted similarly, although her sheer strength made Lena almost buckle under the pressure.

They parted, Emily's tempting chest heaving as she breathed deeply, recovering from the morning romp.

'Your turn?' She asked with evident excitement.

Lena was surprised by her own apprehensions. She was aroused, naturally, but it felt wrong with Widow in the washroom nearby. Why it was "wrong" exactly wasn't as clear as Lena would prefer, but Emily caught the physical rhetoric as if looking for it, flipping onto her back and pulling her shirt back over her pretty form.

'I talked to her last night.' Emily was mad. Well, maybe not mad. Definitely annoyed though. It was her fault for being so in tune with how other people felt based on the tiniest hints.

'Amelie?'

'Yep.'

'Guess I slept through it.' Lena leaned on her elbow next to her girlfriend, touching her leg and stroking it with purpose, wanting to make up for her lapse in judgement.

'I found her on the balcony. She was having trouble sleeping. Can you guess why?'

Was this a test? Lena moved in a little closer, her arm against Emily's, the girl returning the light petting, her touches moving closer and closer to the lining of material that concealed Lena's building desire.

'Because of what we all did?'

'Got it, Luv.'

'Right…' Of course. Even Lena knew it was a longshot for Widow to come out of such a thing unscathed. She had been through too much not to be affected in someway.

'She's fine; don't worry. She really enjoyed it, actually.'

'Yeah?' Lena perked up, the relief too much.

'…Yeah.' Emily's stroking stopped, and she sat cross-legged on the bed. 'Lena?'

'What?'

Emily turned, her gorgeous hair falling about her face in just the right kind of messy way. She was so bloody beautiful, but the look in her eyes was serious.

The shower stopped, and Emily glanced away, shoving Lena down onto the bed and shrugging.

'Oops! Guess you don't get a turn this time, huh?'

'Bloody hell…' Lena groaned, consciously needing to calm her body now. What had Emily wanted to ask her, anyway? Did it have to do with Widow? They _were_ all in a pretty ridiculous relationship. It was only natural some complications arose. Lena herself fought with what to make of it all. Sure, in the moment she felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Amelie _and_ Emily at once? What more could she ask for? But emotionless lovemaking wasn't in her. She attempted to forget the way she and Widow had connected so intimately during the act. If Widow hadn't been adamant about never starting a relationship with Lena, even she would've hesitated further about getting back with Emily. Did that make her horrible? She was, quite frankly, over the moon to have Emily as her girlfriend again, but that frustratingly adventurous, curious side of her kept peeking over the fence, and she hated that it itched to the degree it did.

'Unless you want to risk her walking in on us.' Emily was daring Lena. Another test? Fine. Lena wasn't going to see her for a while, more than likely, again. Might as well make the most of their time.

'Get to work, Luv.' Lena helped guide Emily's lips between her legs, the girl hastily shifting the thin shorts to the side and kissing deeply, her powerful tongue pushing in far, making Lena groan within seconds.

'G-gah…There, Emily…' She encouraged, the way Emily's ass was pointed in the air while she worked, her fingers pleasuring herself as she brought Lena into ecstasy intoxicating. 'A-aha…'

What a waste it would have been if Emily never brought her skills to other women. She had easily caused Widow to submit, and her strong tongue was a gift Lena never grew tired of. It could get in deep, easily pressing against the perfect spot within Lena, her body buzzing with delight and frequent spasms of pleasure.

'Jesus…!' Lena held Emily's head, ensuring her long hair stayed out of the way. She looked up at her girlfriend, grinning confidently. She knew Lena was already there. She was _still_ aroused from the night before, after all.

'O-oh…Yes…Y-yes…! Bloody hell, Luv…!' Lena's knees turned into each other, clashing as her whole shape quivered within orgasmic intervals.

'Seems like a good one.' Emily licked her lips, and Lena tiredly brought her mouth to hers, kissing her passionately.

'Heh…' Emily smiled. 'That was hot. Your body's gotten tighter. All that crime-fighting, huh?'

'M-maybe…'

The bathroom door finally sounded, and Lena popped out of bed, her sleepwear soaked. She quickly went to Emily's dresser and put on one of the girl's delicate pieces of underwear. They were a cheeky, navy blue pair with a brand name tucked into the side.

'Sure. You can wear those.' Emily laughed.

'Sorry, Luv. Got me downright soaked.'

'Amelie wouldn't have minded, I think. Maybe you would've got lucky again?'

Lena was ready for it this time, and wouldn't risk accidently bothering Emily a second time, not when they were parting so soon.

'Could've been a nice send off for both of us, huh?'

Emily squinted slightly, her mouth parted as if she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head with a sly grin.

'Let's get you both some coffee or something.'

* * *

Emily insisted on accompanying both Lena and Widow to their departure point, the trip something of a decent one forcing the group to the outer rim of King's Row. The plane's engine was roaring loudly as Lena and Widow prepared to board. The redhead gave Widow a heartfelt hug, saying something quietly to the woman who seemed to react with embarrassed appreciation. When Emily turned to Lena, she could feel her heart do a flip, and a wave of emotion weighed her down as she approached her.

'Be careful, Luv.' Emily said quietly.

'Definitely. We got some catching up to do, right?'

'Right.' She nodded, and Lena placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, feeling a twinge of desperation in her own soul. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to bring Emily with her. The thought of being without her hurt. This was something more than a crush. Than a notion of lust. Than a favourable fancy. This was a bond built over time and mutual effort. A fling was just that, and it would remain just that if only one party member wished to explore further, perhaps. Perhaps. That hesitation wasn't worth risking a lifetime of commitment. Of joy. Of trust. Lena looked at Emily and felt as though she could marry her. Really. Not now, of course, but someday. She could dream, at least. It didn't scare her. That was progress.

Maybe Emily could sense that unfiltered infatuation, because she placed her hands on Lena's chest, gently rubbing the chronal accelerator that kept them together.

'I love you.' Emily breathed softly.

'I love you, too, Em.' It was the truth.

'Don't forget about me.'

'Jesus, Luv; how could I?'

Emily didn't reply to that, but Lena felt as though she had an answer she was restraining.

'Can I call?'

'Yep! Might be busy, but I'll always call back.'

'Great.' A kiss. Brief, but full of passion. 'I'll be thinking of you.'

'Right back atcha!'

'Heh. Go be a hero.'

'Was planning on it, Luv!'

Lena watched down from the plane until she couldn't see Emily anymore, and the second they took off, on their way back to Overwatch Gibraltar for a pivotal briefing, she closed her eyes for a moment, burying the longing to be with her girlfriend. This was partially why she had broken things off. Boy, it was painful. Would Emily be okay? Would she be lonely? How was work going for her? Did she need a little massage? A hug? A kiss?

'Ugh…' Lena accidently groaned.

'I will miss her.' Widow revealed, and it was nice to hear.

'Right? Sorta why I didn't want to be with her heading back to Overwatch in the first place.'

'Hmph. A coward's mentality.'

'Yeah, yeah. I do some dumb things. What else is new?'

'Foolish, yes.' Widow chuckled a bit. 'But not altogether unfruitful.'

'Got you back on the straight and narrow, didn't I?'

'You did.'

'Gave ya a night to remember, too, right?' Emily had told Lena as much, but it was good to hear from Widow herself as well.'

'…Indeed.'

Wow. Not that long ago Widow was completely against the idea, but now…? Interesting.

'You were bloody beautiful, by the way.'

'You have a girlfriend now, Lena. No flirtatious comments.'

'I-I wasn't flirting, Luv! Just…sayin'.'

Widow shifted in her seat, laying her head back as if to rest further. They _hadn't_ gotten that much sleep, so, it was understandable.

'Well,' She began suddenly again, eyes still closed. 'You were rather adorable yourself, I'll admit.'

Lena struggled with the compliment, as she frequently did, for she didn't see herself as anything overly attractive; especially compared to Widow and Emily.

'Shucks…'

'Your ability to make love to someone is deviously convincing. You've evidently had a fair amount of practise with that…tool.'

'Meh. I've always been pretty comfortable with it.'

'Hm. Intriguing.'

Lena set the plane to autopilot and leaned back as well, the image of Widow's naked body invading her mind suddenly. She was aesthetically perfect in every way, but Lena didn't want to dwell on the memories. She needed to distract herself.

'What was your favourite part?' Oh, great. This would _totally_ shift the conversation away from the guilt-inducing notions.

'I don't see any reason I should answer such an invasive inquiry.'

'Aw! Come on!'

'A pathetic attempt to persuade me.'

'Fine.'

But Lena almost knew Widow would start talking again, and wasn't surprised when the cool beauty's accented words shuffled through the air.

'The comfort.' She said, her voice nearly cracking. 'Being so close…and feeling so safe.'

Lena swallowed, her eyes burning slightly.

'Yeah. I guess that's pretty great, huh?'

A beat, but then Widow went on, as if contradicting herself completely.

'I want my own room when we return to base.'

'What? Why now?'

'You have a girlfriend at present, Lena, and it wouldn't be proper; not after what we've done.'

'But she said – '

'Absolutely not. I won't betray that woman's trust, and neither should you.'

'But what if you need me? As a friend?'

'Then I will come to you as a friend, but it is doubtful.'

What was happening? Something seemed off. If only Emily were here. She was so much better at figuring this kind of stuff out. What was Widow hiding?

'I'll…see if it would be alright. You'd have to get examined by Ange and all that to get approval, I think. Your meds aren't as effective as before, right? I don't know if it'll go over so well.'

'Just…support me in my decision.' Widow insisted, and it bothered Lena.

'Course I will. As long as we're good?'

'We're fine, Lena Oxton. "Brilliant", one might say.'

'You sure?'

'Absolutely positive.'

Lena felt it best to leave it at that, but as always, Widow remained a mystery to her the closer she got, and it was as frustrating as ever.

* * *

The return to Overwatch Gibraltar was anything but calm. Lena and Widow's timing couldn't be worse, for McCree was the one to inform them that Angela and Fareeha had been recently delivered back to them, both women in the emergency care sector of the medical ward, all access from everyone but the highest ranks of Overwatch and family denied indefinitely.

'W-what happened?' Lena was only ten minutes fresh off the plane, the man thinking he had found a place of solitude to smoke until Lena had landed.

'Don't got the whole story yet, but somethin' about takin' down a mighty big omnic in Korea. A pretty little thing brought them back to us, both in rough shape. The docs were downright baffled by Ange's state and were almost just as confused by Ana's girl.'

'Will they be alright?' Widow inquired, receiving a bit of a stare from McCree.

'Don't know. Everythin' seems sorta honky dory, but Ange's pukin' a bunch o' dark, nasty blood, and Fareeha ain't hardly movin'. Vital signs seem normal enough, though I was strugglin' with the crowd. Winston is in a downright panic.'

Lena almost made a comment about how susceptible to injury the two women seemed to be, but knew it wasn't the time, and glanced about the base, eyeing the facility where the spoken of girls were.

'I'm gonna see how they're doing.'

'Fine. But this one here won't be allowed.'

Widow scowled.

'I do believe I have proven myself by this point.' The fact she was subtly bringing up how she saved Brigitte was telling.

'You're standin' at ground zero now, I'd say. A life for a life and all that? Hell. That'd be generous. How many agents you take out that we don't even know of? Still got some work to do.'

'McCree!' Lena yelled.

Widow went still, likely taking a moment to gather herself, and then went on quietly.

'So be it.' She balanced her options, and settled on submission, oddly enough. The death of her victims weighed on her, evidently, and Lena wished she could do something to comfort the poor woman.

'That isn't fair, McCree.' Lena decided to interject anyway. 'Talon was making her and you know it. I thought we'd all be past this by now.'

'Once bitten, you know? I won't get in yer way most of the time; too much damn effort, but I ain't gonna let you have a chance at our angel here.'

'I wouldn't hurt my only hope at a normal life.'

'Maybe you wouldn't. but I reckon that killer deep down would. No dice. Ya'll can hang out with me for all I care. Probably one of the few round here that could handle ya if you got skittish.'

'Doubtful, but I won't argue further.'

Lena gave McCree a moderate punch to the shoulder, stomping away with Widow in tow.

'Asshat.'

'Heh. Not the worst thing I've been called.'

Lena was, naturally, allowed access to see Angela and Fareeha, but before going, she gave Widow a small nod, blinking away her anxiety.

'I'll just be a sec.'

'Fine. Demanding a room tonight might be too much, I suppose.' She paused, glancing away tentatively; cutely. 'Would you mind?'

'Course not, Luv. I can cozy up in the living room if that makes you feel better.'

'…It would.'

'Heh.' Lena raised a brow with a wink. 'I'll be right back.'

'I'll take real good care of her.' McCree drawled on. He was, ultimately, a reasonable man, but had an uncanny respect for justice after everything he'd been through. It was a good thing most of the time. At the very least, Widow was quite safe with him, for few would dare cross the cowboy on the best of days. Perhaps he had thought of that as well, and was simply masking his good intentions with a mixture of true trepidation.

In any case, Lena didn't have much time to think on it further, for she was through multiple barricades prior to finally stepping into the emergency care facility, the area quite crowded, mostly because of Winston's enormous frame. Jack and Ana were present as well, alongside a couple of the best doctors Overwatch Gibraltar had on staff aside from Angela. The miraculous medic herself was sitting somewhat gingerly in her bed, while Fareeha remained attached to various machines, the ominous beeping and laboured breaths coming from her disconcerting. Angela appeared downright pale, black circles under her eyes and her hair down but greasy, a strange illness emanating from her subtly weak motions. Ana remained crouched next to Fareeha, holding the young woman's hand and simply staring at her, relief passing over the old woman's face with every successful breath.

'Lena.' Jack spoke quietly, although his gruff tone still rumbled. 'Thank-you. You did well.'

'Oh. Right.' Lena recoiled, remembering Sombra. 'Where's she at?'

'Locked up for the moment while we deal with this. She's already done some impressive work, but there can't be any risks. Reinhardt and Brigitte are guarding her room.'

'Yikes. Overkill.'

'Not in the least. She shut down our entire base on her own. No chances.'

'Makes sense…' Lena nodded toward Angela, who waved to her shakily. 'What's goin' on here, Ange?'

Angela shrugged, tapping her throat tentatively.

'Winston?' Lena didn't want to sound afraid, but the reality of this scenario wasn't sitting well with her. Not in the slightest. She wanted to know. She didn't want to know. Winston began speaking anyway.

'Um…Angela performed…er…a resurrection of sorts.'

Only the beeping from Fareeha's machines filled the following silence, but Lena resorted to her usual antics to deal with the stress building.

'Well, yeah. It's kinda what she does.'

'No, Lena.' Jack huffed. 'Fareeha died.'

A chill ran Lena's back, and she saw Ana's grip tighten over her daughter's hand.

'Bloody hell…For real?'

'The recoil is this. Hana Song rushed them both back to us with all the resources at her fingertips. She joined our fight, her Meka being touched up by Torbjorn as we speak. But…' Jack sighed.

'Angela's molecular structure isn't reacting well to the strain she put it through. I…I don't even know how she did such a thing.' Winston adjusted his glasses, flipping through some screens nearby, a holographic image of Angela's body on display. Lena could hardly make heads or tails of it, but she had a feeling all the flashing red within the diagram was a bad thing. 'Hana promises the feat is going to remain confidential, for obvious reasons, but we can't be sure Fareeha will make it to begin with…'

'Jesus…'

'She refuses to rest, the stubborn woman. Her whole body is rejecting her, demanding only sleep to better recover, but she says she won't do anything like it until Fareeha is stabilized.' Jack paced, getting a sarcastic grin from Angela herself.

What could Lena say? Part of her was taken aback with worry, the seeming invincible Angela never requiring this long to bounce back from anything given enough time, but more of her was blown away by the miracle her old friend had managed. It was clear, and everyone present must have known, that she was driven to such lengths – to such extreme risk to her own health – by the affection harboured for Fareeha Amari. Lena's heart gave a jump, and she admired the unparalleled intimacy. Envied it almost…

Lena approached Angela, kneeling next to her bed and touching her hand before holding it with both of hers. She could see Angela's dark veins within, her pulse erratic, and her strength nearly nonexistent.

'You okay, Luv?'

'…Mostly.' Angela answered in hardly a whisper. Her eyes were glistening, and she looked up at the ceiling, her lower lip beginning to tremble. 'I was…holding myself well until you appeared.'

'Sorry.'

'No. It is fine.' She paused, inhaling sporadically. 'I just…I don't want to lose her…' Angela's voice broke, and Lena sympathized fiercely, tightening her hold on the doctor's hand, never having seen or heard such raw emotion in Angela's voice. This was love. Pure love. No singular doubt. It was blinding.

'She'll be okay.' Lena replied, hating the words the moment they left her mouth.

'Is that…a professional opinion?' Angela wiped her eyes, her throat gripping her voice still.

'Knowing what you're capable of, Luv? I'd say "yes".'

'Heh. I wish it were so easy to believe. But…this is new territory. I have dealt a heavy blow to the mortal coil to which balances all life. It's…frightening.'

'What do you mean?' Lena sometimes had difficulty comprehending precisely what Angela was saying, and this particular comment was especially baffling.

'It's difficult to explain.' Angela looked to Fareeha, her pretty blue eyes shimmering again. It was hard to watch. This agony. Lena felt like an idiot for being so flippant regarding her own relationship. Emily was her one and only; she knew this, so, why couldn't she stop looking at Widow? Such greed in the face of this dedicated, loyal love. Sickening.

'I feel as though I've stepped on a plain I have no right treading. Many have called me an angel, and it is a sweet sentiment, but if such ethereal beings exist, I fear my interference has caused something of an uproar.'

Lena didn't get it. Fortunately, Angela went on.

'For once in my life…I do not know if I shall recover from this.' She gave Fareeha another glance, her face crumbling before Lena, the tears lined with red. 'A-and I can't stand the thought…of leaving her without so much as a "goodbye".'

Jack appeared on the other side of the bed then, and Lena could see even his stoic expression had softened astronomically. He placed a hand on Angela's shoulder delicately, his words coming out in a warm, soothing rumble.

'You are one of the strongest women I've ever known.' He said, nodding toward Ana Amari. 'And I've known some impressive ones. We'll do everything we can to make sure you get through this. None of us are going anywhere.'

'Thank-you, Jack…' A look of affection was exchanged, the two agents sharing an intense history of highs and lows. At the end of it all, however, there was sincere care.

'What can I do?' Lena stood up, hating this helplessness. 'There's gotta be something!'

'Not now, Lena.' Winston said quietly. 'Time. I believe we simply need to wait.'

'What about the mission? Do we have a location?'

'Yes. But we're not making a move just yet.' Jack stood up as well. 'The outline for such an attack has to be perfect, and Hana's Meka changes things.'

'Jack was also hoping I could be available by then.' Angela shook her head. 'It's looking doubtful.'

This was frustrating. Lena _hated_ waiting around when so much needed to be done.

'What about…Moira? Would she know a way of – ?'

'Out of the question…!' Angela was cut off by a spasm of coughs, Jack handing her a tissue to wipe the blood spray off her hands.

'Ange…!' Lena's face construed.

'Lena.' Jack went on somberly. 'Please get Zenyatta. Escort him discreetly.'

'W-why, Jack? What are you saying?' Lena looked from Angela to the man then to Winston.

'I want to try everything. Everything.' He repeated angrily. 'That omnic believes in some kind of higher power? Fine. Let's see what this faith of his can do.'

Angela didn't contest the notion, and thus, Lena nodded, thankful for some kind of objective. However, just as she was about to depart, she looked to Angela, the woman's pale face constantly unsettling.

'Oh, um, okay if Amelie sees you, Luv? She's worried.'

Jack seemed as though he wanted to interject, but Angela raised a shaky finger, giving Lena a pained smile.

'Of course. I don't mind at all.'

'Right. Okay. Be back in a jiffy.'

And Lena prepared to depart, but not before sending Emily a quick message, her own emotions completely dislodged, and her concept of life shaken as it had been after her own incident. She valued her existence incredibly, her attitude reflecting as much, but she had to be reminded that it could all end in an instant. One wrong move. One misstep. She had the luxury of reversing her own time as needed, but even then, the repercussions could be devastating. It weighed her down. It caused her anxiety. She hated standing still because remaining motionless meant her mind had time to consider the endless possibilities before her. Lena didn't want that. She clearly couldn't handle it.

"Hey, Em. Thinking of you. Missin' you lots."

It helped a little. Emily was her stabilization. Her metaphorical chronal accelerator in her psychological life. She'd never let her go again. Even Widow had deemed that particular decision foolish.

Lena's phone beeped, and she closed her eyes upon reading the response, wondering how she could have been so blessed considering she had simply thought this young woman was a pretty lady at the bar she had no chance with.

"You okay, Lena? Want me to call?"


	66. LXVI: Pharah

Pharah

' – eeha…! Fareeha!'

Her mother. She sounded younger, but with every call out of Fareeha's name, she aged.

'Fareeha! Fareeha!? Can you hear me?'

Yes. She could. Ana Amari. Legendary sniper. Second-in-command of Overwatch in its prime. A woman who had earned her place in the world.

'She's waking up!'

Waking up? Was it such an incredible moment? Wait. Waking…up?

* * *

 _She saw the omnic's arm swinging. It would crush Angela. Kill her. Fareeha surprised herself with how quickly she came to the decision to take the blow in her princess' place. The look on Angela's face hurt more than Fareeha's own armour crushing into her body, penetrating every part of her until she could feel no more._

 _But Angela was safe._

 _She had to be._

* * *

'Angela…!' Fareeha sprung up, and the world spun in a dizzying whirlwind of white blurs. There was a beeping sound, and it escalated until Fareeha fell back in her bed, her lips dry and her stomach twisting.

'Shh. Calm yourself, my child.' Ana's voice again. When was the last time it sounded so nervous? So full of emotion? Her hand touched Fareeha's own, and the younger woman struggled to stay conscious, already exhausted somehow.

'Where am I?' Fareeha managed, still disoriented in more ways than she could fathom.

'Back at Overwatch Gibraltar.'

Jack now. The hero. The symbol. Another legend.

'You've been through much, my daughter.' Ana went on, stroking Fareeha's head. 'It's…been a trying few days.'

A soft whimpering. A whisper of despair restrained. Fareeha knew that sound. She knew it intimately well. She pushed up on her bed desperately, her innards repelling her, and she groaned in discomfort, looking across the room and allowing her eyes to focus as best as they could.

Angela Ziegler. There she was.

'Angela…' Fareeha grinned, even her face hurting.

'Fareeha. G-good evening…' She couldn't go on. She was covering her mouth, sobbing into her hands. She looked worse than when Fareeha had first lay eyes on her in Iraq, but somehow, she was even more beautiful than the woman could recall.

Yet, she cried. That wasn't permitted.

'Fareeha! Wait!'

Fareeha stumbled out of her bed, yanking at the cords attached to her, the nauseating pain of various needles haphazardly plucked from her body almost enough to bring her back down.

But a more powerful force moved her now. Something that couldn't be quantified.

Fareeha knelt next to Angela's bed, aware _something_ unbelievable had occurred, but unsure of exactly what. She took Angela's hands, their grip weak and cold, and held them tight, the doctor's tears streaming even more freely, a troubling crimson tone filtered within the liquid lining her cheeks.

'I'm here, Angela.' She claimed, and Angela nodded, her mouth tense.

'Unbelievable…' Jack could be heard in the background, and Zenyatta's ethereal intonation fluttered through the air.

'Note the monitors.' He suggested, and Winston audibly exhaled in disbelief.

'Her nanomachines…They're reawakening. No…they're evolving…?'

'Love. How wonderful.' Zenyatta sounded almost as though he were about to laugh. 'Its power is boundless. Just as stress wreaks havoc on one's body, the opposite can be said for a limitless emotion such as pure, unfiltered, sincere affection; the rare kind that I have seldom witnessed in this reality.'

'God almighty…' Ana breathed out in a trembling tone. 'These wonders never cease.'

'I'm not dreaming.' Angela's palm cradled Fareeha's face. 'Say my name again.'

'Angela.' Fareeha didn't hesitate for a second. 'Angela.' She repeated.

'H-hah…!' Angela held Fareeha's cheeks with both her hands now, seemingly attempting to speak but only more sobs escaping her throat.

'There is an intriguing belief from the east that one's finger is tied by a red string of fate to another's, signifying the individual they are destined to find eternal happiness with.' Zenyatta spoke wisely, evident amusement in his mechanical voice. 'Some do not wait long enough to discover this gift, settling for mediocrity or social expectation, perhaps. While others,' He placed his hands together in a motion of prayer. 'Are blessed to reach the end of such a meaningful piece of material.'

'Pretty words.' Jack scoffed. 'I'm just glad they're both okay for now.'

'Y-you should really return to bed, Fareeha.' Angela encouraged half-heartedly.

'No.' Fareeha shook her head, seeing the fear in her lady's eyes. 'You need me.'

'To be seen through so easily…We have grown rather close, haven't we?'

'Very.'

'I owe you my thanks, Angela Ziegler.' Ana stepped forward now, placing a hand on Fareeha's back. 'You saved my daughter. I…don't think I could ever repay you.'

Fareeha blinked. Something in the way her mother said that seemed heavier than it warranted. Angela had simply healed her, had she not? No. "Healed" her? That impact. That pain. That emptiness…

'All I ask is for your approval, Ana.' Angela smiled, colour returning to her face thankfully. 'For I do believe – unless something catastrophic occurs – I shall spend the rest of my life with this woman.'

Her life. Fareeha found joy in the statement, but her brain prickled, and her heart skipped unnaturally.

'What…happened to me?' Fareeha asked, somehow knowing it was the correct question to present given her sudden confusion.

'W-well…'

'Fareeha…'

Both Angela and Ana hesitated, and now Fareeha _knew_ there was a piece of this narrative she was missing. She looked to Winston, the large animal fixing his glasses and feigning interest in something on the screens nearby. Finally, Jack exemplified his blunt personality by saying the truth, and it took a moment for his words to fully sink in.

'You died, Fareeha. Angela brought you back. It was touch and go for some time in between, but it looks as though you'll both pull through.'

Fareeha was stunned. It made sense though. This strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. This haziness in her mind. This bizarre disconnect. Her body was still adjusting to being…alive again?

A wave of anxiety hit her almost as hard as the omnic in Korea, and Fareeha's brow construed as she snapped her focus back to Angela, the pieces of a horrid puzzle falling into graphic place.

'What's the sacrifice?' She hissed, looking over Angela and seeing the signs of her body degrading more clearly than ever. She was seemingly improving, thank goodness, but…

'What did it do to you?'

'She'll recover as she always does, Fareeha. No need to become antagonistic.' Ana chuckled.

'She won't!' Fareeha yelled, and everyone discovered confusion in the young agent's fierce proclamation.

'Fareeha, please.' Angela begged, but Fareeha was hysterical, her panic overriding everything else.

'How many years did you lose? What was the cost?'

'What on earth is she…?' Winston trailed, and he examined the monitors more closely, a form of understanding coming over his intelligent eyes. 'Wait. Your body…It's…!'

'What does it matter, Fareeha? Hm? Do you truly believe I could stand to lose you? The most important soul I have ever had the pleasure of being associated with? There was no choice whatsoever. I had to try. Fortunately, against all odds, I succeeded. I was more than aware of the risks, believe me, but to see you here before me now? Why, I would do it again, and again, and again.'

She couldn't argue without becoming a hypocrite. After all, Fareeha had done something similar. It really wasn't fair to contest the facts.

'Life without you?' Angela sensed the calming coming over Fareeha, her tone becoming gentle. 'I can hardly imagine the concept adequately.'

'…I guess…I can sympathize with that.' Fareeha found Angela's beautiful eyes and settled on them, the adrenaline losing its effect and her own body crumbling under the ongoing stress. Nonetheless, she smiled, because the value she found in this moment surpassed anything else. Fareeha reached and opened her palm over Angela's chest, feeling her dog tag, her relief escalating.

'I love you.' She said so clearly she made Winston fidget uncomfortably, but not without a little grin of his own. Even Ana could only observe all this with intrigue, never perhaps knowing Fareeha was capable of such raw emotion considering the somewhat stoic woman she had become to most.

'And I obviously love you.' Angela teased. 'Now, get some rest. You're nearly passing out, you passionate girl.'

Jack rushed to Fareeha's side, and she felt his hands reach under her arms, but that's where all conscious memory of what was occurring ended. Fareeha needed more time to recover, and there was no denying that further, primarily now that she knew Angela would be alright…for the moment.

* * *

It was a blink in her world, but perhaps much more in many others'. Fareeha awoke to quite the sight, regardless, her stomach twisting for more reasons than expected hunger.

Angela Ziegler was working away at the nearby desk, her hair tied in a messy bun high on her head, enticing glasses adjusted over her pretty nose, a lab coat draped about her partially hidden form, just a touch of cleavage poking out from the blue button-up beneath. Fareeha simply stared, a lightness hitting her chest at the thought that this woman was hers. Angela, out of all the options she must have had in life relationally, had chosen Fareeha Amari. It still baffled her, but she had no ground to stand on when questioning whether the reciprocated affection was authentic or not.

Likely due to a change in the monitors facilitating Fareeha's state, the woman perked up, the tranquil event lost, and Fareeha's desire to admire Angela from afar gone for now.

'You're awake.' She smiled, appearing much healthier than the last time Fareeha had seen her. Thank goodness. For now, at least, she was fine.

'Yes. How long was I out?'

'After out last conversation? Approximately three days. Your body had much work to do, but the progress has been satisfactory, and it is adapting to…everything quite well.'

They were alone. Perhaps being facilitated via a surveillance camera, but physically alone. Fareeha pushed herself up from her laying position, her muscles aching, of course, but feeling much, much better.

'What do you mean "everything"?'

'Well,' Angela stepped away from her chair, approaching Fareeha, her slender legs contained within a tight, black pencil skirt. Had she dressed so attractively on purpose? She was like a character out of an adult's video. The overly sexy nurse, if more naturally and less scantily clad, but nonetheless…!

'I hope you are not alarmed to hear that, in order to save you, one of the steps I took was to transfer a great number of my nanomachines into you. The risks were great, naturally, due to the machines being quite organic in nature, and preferring me as a host above all else at this point. But they took to you, unbelievably, and they continue to adapt, it would appear.'

'I…have part of you inside me?' Fareeha blinked, the concept immediately stimulating.

'Indeed.' Angela blushed. 'I suspect…ahem…it was due to the D.N.A. you had…er…consumed from me not terribly long before the transfer. I-I could be wrong, but my nanomachines surely found comfort in the remnants of my being within you.'

Fareeha was already, likely because of Angela's outfit, feeling more provoked than expected, and this sort of talk was hardly helping matters. Recalling their last moment of intimacy pushed her over the edge, and her body ached, images of what lay beneath Angela's clothes taunting her. The thought of seeing the way her form wrapped about Fareeha's artificial extension was far too stimulating to remain focused on.

'Incredible. So, does this mean I will not physically age like you?'

'It is yet to be seen. But one would suspect a similar developmental progress, yes. However,' Angela's self-interjection made Fareeha's temporary elation drop. 'My nanomachines remain degraded due to my actions from the past and present. I do not know what this means for you, but I won't lie, Fareeha, they are our lifelines now, and we should both attempt to use their healing properties sparingly. You are not invincible, the same as I.'

'Right.' Fareeha nodded, the simple fact she was so much closer to Angela now anything but upsetting. She must've been grinning like a child unable to contain herself, because Angela chastised her lovingly.

'Are you _that_ pleased to have a part of me within you?'

'Very.' Fareeha nodded zealously. 'I couldn't be happier, to be perfectly honest.'

This made Angela's cheeks colour again, and Fareeha touched her wrist, tugging at it gently.

'What would you like?' Angela continued to play with Fareeha, maybe testing to see just how honest the younger woman could be. Challenge accepted.

'A kiss from the woman I love.' Fareeha nearly demanded, and the look on Angela's face was priceless, because she was evidently smitten yet embarrassed by the idea. Nonetheless, she leaned in and gave Fareeha exactly that. The younger girl wanted so much more, but knew her doctor would never permit such a thing upon just awakening. It was probably for the best. Therefore, changing the subject matter made sense, shifting Fareeha's thoughts away from the sensation of Angela's tender lips upon her own.

'What is Overwatch's current status?' Fareeha saw the change in Angela's visage, her own mind perhaps needing guidance as well. She cleared her throat, standing back up fully, her features on terribly clear display.

'Quite riveting, truly. Our most important mission since coming back together is in its final stages of development, and deployment will occur likely within twenty-four hours. The exact agents to be sent out is still under scrutiny, but I believe we shall have it all solidified soon. I have given my input, regardless.'

'I suppose I am not part of the candidates.' Fareeha frowned.

'Of course not, Fareeha. Although you have clearly displayed unparalleled courage and fighting prowess, you simply need too much time to recover. Many tests following your recovery. And finally, only minor missions in the field before being permitted anything of this scale.'

'Right…'

'The good news?' Angela tapped her cheek provocatively. 'I am certainly not fit for active duty beyond this base as well. We shall endure the restrictions together.'

'Hm. Could be worse, I guess.' Fareeha _was_ happy about spending time with Angela, but the idea of not contributing to justice against Talon irked her immensely.

'I understand your frustration.' Angela smiled wryly. 'But we are needed here as well for the other agents in the field. It's been decided that attacking this particular facility of Talon's requires a delicate, somewhat special operations approach. Only a handful of our best will be performing the task, a pre-emptive strike being our best chance of landing a critical blow.'

'Who will be involved?'

'As I said, there isn't a solid answer to that question yet, but some consistent names have been Ana, Jack, Lena, Amelie, McCree, and Genji. Reinhardt, Dva, Winston, and Brigitte on standby should something transpire that requires a more forceful touch.'

'Jesus…' Fareeha gasped. The best of the best. What _couldn't_ such a group accomplish? 'And…Hana?'

'Heheh! Indeed! She is more than willing to fight alongside us now that the tyrannous omnic has been contained, for the most part, in Korea's sea. We owe her our lives, by the by, so ensure you thank her proper. Purchasing something sweet for her consumption seems to be a rather efficient way to please her. She is excessively popular among the agents, I might add. Her and Lucio certainly keep morale quite high, which is lovely.'

'I will be sure to speak with her.' Fareeha thought of the young Korean woman, pleasing memories associated with her primarily. 'And what _is_ the mission exactly?'

'We both missed out on an interesting development, it would seem, because Lena and Amelie successfully formed an alliance with Sombra, the hacker who was employed by Talon and has been an incredible thorn in Overwatch's side for some time now.'

'Ah. Her.' Fareeha knew _of_ her, but hadn't given the troublesome girl much thought.

'Through some negotiation – and surely financial consultation – Sombra revealed where Talon is attempting to clone the alien matter we first discovered upon that omnic in Volskaya Industries, its finite origin being Oasis.'

'Right…' Fareeha's brain hurt, still sluggish with following all the information.

'We must shut down the facility in order to stop further production of the black omnics, for their power is already difficult to handle on a singular basis, let alone an entire army of them.'

'Thus, the all-star lineup.' Fareeha was relieved that Angela had kept the explanation simple enough, all things considered.

'Precisely. Our return delayed the mission's progress, but fortunately – and I can attest to this – cloning is no simple matter; most notably when handling an alien's D.N.A. Without Moira, Talon is surely struggling.'

'Good.' Fareeha nodded, still wishing she could be part of such a pivotal moment for Overwatch.

'Chin up, my knight.' Angela winked, her desire to lift Fareeha's spirit so beautiful. 'Thanks to us, the Korean government is personally contributing to Overwatch's ongoing establishment. Under the table, of course, but nonetheless, our efforts for that country did not go unnoticed, and Hana's cooperation only adds to the trust gained. It is a great accomplishment of which you should be very proud of.'

'That _is_ good to hear.' Fareeha wanted to sound enthusiastic. She doubted she was convincing.

'Heh. But my reckless girlfriend wants to dive straight into battle once again, hm?' Angela checked Fareeha's charts, expertly removing the needles this time, her touch goosebump-inducing as she did so.

'It's the little I _can_ do for the world.'

'Well, you best accept the fact that you and I shall be remaining here for the time being. The good news?' Angela placed bandages over Fareeha's puncture wounds, although Fareeha could already feel a strange tingling where her skin was reconstructing itself much quicker than normal. 'I am giving you permission to, at the very least, wander about the base as needed. No weight-lifting, for heaven's sake, however.'

'Tch.' Fareeha honestly wished to do just that.

'Oh? You did _not_ just "tch" me, did you?'

'U-um…Sorry?'

'Indeed.' Angela scowled, and it was somehow cute.

'Then you better not push yourself either, Dr. Ziegler. We both need to learn to stop punishing our bodies.'

'Quite. Wise words, young lady. I shall do my best to abide by them.'

'Good.'

Angela looked Fareeha over, her cheeks suddenly warming up and her eyes flickering about as she seemed to tap away at her computer.

'Oh. I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you something…'

'Hm?' Fareeha was genuinely curious, for Angela rarely became so sheepish.

'I…took it upon myself to relocate my room'

'Uh…okay? Is it much further than your previous one?'

'Not much, no. I used certain…liberties granted to us Grandmasters, I'll have you know.'

'Good for you. You should take advantage of such things more, really.' She was too modest in most cases.

'Y-yes.' Angela took off her glasses, and Fareeha's heart raced at the motion for whatever reason. 'I also…requested a larger area for myself.' She paused, sucking in some air carefully. 'One with a queen size bed.'

'You do move a fair amou – ' Fareeha's mouth hung open, and she physically felt her body fend off a chill of enthusiasm.

'Heh. You seem to understand my implications? You've come a long way with reading between the lines, my gallant knight.' Angela fidgeted with her projected keyboards again. 'I hope…I wasn't being overly presumptuous. We haven't been together _that_ long, really, but…it just felt right; especially after recent events. I…truly wish to be with you as much as humanly possible.'

'I'm deeply flattered.' It was Fareeha's turn to blush. 'It's…very good news. So, I will be moving in tonight?'

'Everything is already there.'

'Hahah! Confident in my response, huh?'

'Mostly…!' Angela's face seemed anxious, and it was just too fun to see.

'I would be more than honoured. Angela Ziegler, you know I only want to be by your side.'

'G-good. I presumed as much, but one never knows.'

'With me you should always know. There is no hesitation in my heart whatsoever.'

'The feeling is mutual.' Angela crouched next to Fareeha, looking up at her as if demanding a kiss. The younger woman had no issue with such a request. She did so willingly, savouring every second her lips were in contact with the most amazing, brilliant woman she had ever known.

* * *

Fareeha was eventually released from the medical ward in the evening time. She respectfully left Angela to her work and went to the café for some dinner, having been warned her bowels were likely quite sensitive and to be careful with what she consumed. Fortunately, Overwatch took care of its agents, and the cooks worked hard to prepare meals that satisfied the majority. Angela had made sure Fareeha had a change of clothes prior to leaving, and she had brought her a navy-blue hoody, and a black tank top with jeans. She knew her so well.

Fareeha didn't love the idea of being made a spectacle, and thus, she threw her hood on, and attempted to quickly grab her meal before proceeding to her new room, her body still a little achy, but pieces of Angela continuing to heal her more hastily than ever.

However, she _did_ spot Hana Song surrounded by quite a number of (mostly male) Overwatch agents, the lot of them obviously into the newest member of the group and quite clearly smitten by her (admittedly) good looks. She was eating a decent plate of food, giggling and gabbing away as if she had always been part of the team. Fareeha wanted to show her appreciation at some point, but now hardly seemed like good timing…until Hana perked up, somehow able to tell Fareeha was present even with her hood up.

The young Korean girl jumped out of her seat and almost dashed over, her pink short shorts and tank top that graciously exposed her curvy midriff more than enough of a reason for her attention, even if the matching pink unzipped sweater suggested a little modesty.

'Fareeha! Fareeha!' She called out, the touch of her Korean accent endearing. 'You're doing okay?'

'Better than before, yeah.' Fareeha shrugged. She suddenly felt overly conscious of her demeanor and size in comparison to this petite little thing. Angela was clearly happy with Fareeha and what she had to offer, but she had also shown interest in Hana's appearance. Fareeha would never be the princess, and had never really wished to fulfill that stereotypical role, but on excessively rare occasions, she did wonder…

'Thank goodness! _Really_ gave us all a scare!' She leaned in, whispering almost dramatically. 'Mostly everyone just thinks you were super hurt, so keep the deets on the D.L., kay?'

'Affirmative.'

'Heh!' She beamed, and her smile was something else. 'Awesome! But really, you and Angela are all good? Like, for real?'

'Absolutely. And we owe you our thanks for returning us here so promptly.'

'Psh! You sorta helped me with my eternal foe, so, no biggie.'

'Still, we would love to treat you to a dinner or…dessert at some point?'

'Ooo! A snack sounds perfect! I won't say "no" to that!'

'Excellent.' Fareeha nodded toward the large group of Overwatch agents who had been conversing with Hana. They were waiting around a bit awkwardly. 'Your friends?'

'Meh. Groupies at best. I miss my team back home, to be honest. Dae-hyun was _so_ not into me coming here, but it just made sense, you know? Plus, I promised. A promise is a promise!'

'He seemed very smitten with you.'

'Smitten? Hahah! I like that.' Hana's upbeat persona lapsed for a split second, as if in reflection, but then returned in another instant. 'Yeah. He's a good guy. Like a brother, you know?'

'…That poor man.'

'Oh, I know he might have a thing for me. I'm not a total idiot. But you'd be surprised by how the industry works. Gotta know when to turn on and off the switch.'

'I'm afraid I don't follow.'

'That's good. It's pretty messed up. Tee-heh!' Hana made a face, and then relaxed, rolling her eyes. 'Anyway, I met _the_ Tracer, and that was pretty amazing! She's crazy fun! I think we'll get along just perfect! She had a _gorgeous_ woman with her, too. Never heard of her. Had weird skin. Amelie was her name? She new to Overwatch?'

'More than less.'

'Scary! Let me tell you, she was _scary_! Sexy as sexy gets, but boy oh, boy I wouldn't tease her!'

'A wise choice.'

Hana glanced at Fareeha's meal, grinning wryly.

'Guess you wanna go eat now? You sticking around or getting back to your room?'

Truthfully, Fareeha had no desire to be anywhere but her new room, especially since she now shared it with Angela, but she sensed Hana's hesitation and reluctance to return to her "groupies", and decided she would go with her gut, and trust her maturing ability to read people just a touch better than before.

'I…wouldn't mind joining you, if that's okay.'

Hana's eyes lit up, and she practically dragged Fareeha to the table she had been previously, a number of the agents suddenly far less enthusiastic about their circumstances, since Fareeha intimidated many of the grunts with her accomplishments and overall presence, especially being so close to _the_ Angela Ziegler.

'I brought a friend!' Hana almost screamed with delight.

* * *

Fareeha couldn't say she didn't enjoy spending time with Hana, but it _was_ mentally taxing, especially fresh out of the medical ward. It was hard to pinpoint precisely, but Fareeha could tell _something_ was off about her body. It wasn't terribly surprising, considering what she had been through, but still, concerning nonetheless.

She exchanged numbers with Hana, promising to contact her here and there, and then made her way back to her new room, the details outlined by Angela prior to her initial departure.

Fareeha half-expected/hoped her mother might be lurking about in wait of her daughter's release, but there was no such luck, and the young woman swallowed the knot in her throat. At least she had been there for her during the critical moments, and it _would_ have been odd for Ana to be so attentive now…

Fareeha was granted access to her room via voice command, saying her name and noting the way it filled her mouth with discomfort. Just as her inner health seemed off, so did such moments, oddly enough. However, the sight of her new residence contributed to lifting her spirits, and the little touches of Angela already present made her even happier. A coffee mug here, a medical magazine there, a hologram still projecting from one of the pages, but flickering due to the short lifespan of such trinkets. Fareeha took off her sweater, stretched, and explored further, making it to her – that is, her _and_ Angela's – room, her guitar in the corner alongside her other things, although she didn't have much to begin with.

There was a single queen-sized bed, the sheets in disarray and a pillow on the floor. Angela obviously had other things on her mind as of late. Imagining the woman sleeping alone bothered Fareeha, yet, they both had done it for so many years; Angela even more so.

It was bizarre, Fareeha realized, how much she adored the doctor. The smallest thing tickled her heart, like the view of a shirt hanging out of a drawer. Angela's shirt. A piece of her. A fragment of her life. The fact Angela had gone ahead and moved them in together was a testament to her feelings as well. Such a blessing. Fareeha would be a fool to question the emotions at play ever again.

She had always dreamed of joining Overwatch. But never in those wildest dreams could she ever have anticipated gaining a soulmate in the process of achieving that wish.

Fareeha sat upon the bed and felt her heart, knowing it beat because of that same precious individual. She had been given a second chance. She wouldn't waste the opportunity. She would protect the innocent. But most of all, and above everything else, she would remain by Angela's side, the woman a manifestation of all her dreams she never knew she had come true.


	67. LXVII: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

Waiting for Lena outside of the medical ward with a disgruntled cowboy staring her down wasn't precisely the way Widow wanted to spend her time upon returning to Overwatch Gibraltar. She leaned against a wall, covering herself in shadows, and prayed Lena wouldn't take too long, although based on the circumstances, she doubted her prayers would be answered.

McCree seemed content enough smoking his cigarette, and Widow hated the way he sucked in the filth and blew it out so methodically. It brought her an irritating sense of nostalgia. She didn't want to look, but caught herself sneaking glances of the man, her memories flickering back to a simpler time. Perhaps not as happy, but certainly more manageable emotionally. It was difficult to discern which life she desired more now. It should have been a simple answer, but Widow found her heart wrenched, and time to consider her current place in life, like this very moment, was dangerous at best, because she found herself becoming selfish…

'You gettin' along real good with Lena there these days, huh?' McCree, inevitably, started talking. He was quick to get to the point, at least, for Widow had little patience for humouring social etiquette currently.

'…Yes.' Widow answered, considering ignoring the man, but knowing she couldn't.

Surprisingly, and perhaps it was a testament to the gunslinger's confidence in his skill, he stepped in next to Widow, lowering his voice so their conversation remained private. He reeked of smoke, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant annoyingly.

'You in love with her?' He muttered quietly, catching Widow off guard and making her nearly flinch.

'I fail to see how that's any of your business.'

'Already. Damn. Girl could teach me a thing or two.'

'I didn't say I was.'

'Didn't hafta.' McCree chuckled deeply. 'Been around a while. Gotta be pretty quick with readin' people in my line of work. You play a hard hand, but ain't nothin' I haven't seen before. She softened you up good.'

Widow grit her teeth.

'She helped me find myself again. That is all.'

'Amelie Lacroix.'

She didn't feel the need to answer him.

'Gerard's girl. Heard enough about you. Guy liked to brag.'

'…He could sometimes, yes.'

'Oh? Somethin' sour happen between you two?'

It was like talking to Emily, although she was notably more frightening to handle. McCree bluffed left and right, and that's likely how he got the information he wanted. The casual tone, the way he stood, the way he acted; all tools to extract data. He was calculating despite his demeanor. A powerful, dangerous man. A small wonder he was a Grandmaster.

'Again, none of your business.'

McCree took another draft, looking out into the distance.

'Reckon someone takin' out a friend _is_ my business.'

'Then take it up with Widowmaker.'

'Heh.' He adjusted his hat, tapping at his gun holstered to his obnoxious belt. 'Not a bad idea.'

Widow raised a brow, eyeing McCree openly now.

'…What?'

'Unfinished business and all that. Sides, big mission comin' up. Wouldn't mind a challenge fer once. Ana ain't bad, but I'm wonderin' if you can give me a run fer my money.'

Did he want to duel her or something equally ludicrous? While Angela remained in such a dire state? No. Gerard was like this, too. Men were strange creatures at times. The way they handled stress and anxiety perplexed the fairer sex, generally. Widow considered her need to dance when particularly burdened with undesirable thoughts, such as the strange dissatisfaction she encountered in her past life, wasn't altogether different, however.

'What are you suggesting?'

'A little game. Round two. Target practise down in the pits where ol' Torbjorn likes to play. I win, you don't get in on any more missions until Angela gets you fixed up proper. You win…well, I don't give a damn. What do ya want?'

'You are presuming I will humour your little whim?'

'Don't hafta, true.' McCree laughed. 'But it's a might bit better way to kill the time than standin' out here waitin' for your girlfriend.'

'We are not together.'

'Right. Lena's back with that pretty little redhead again. Makes things complicated a touch, don't it?'

Widow hated the pinch in her chest at the statement. The last thing she wanted was to think about _that_. She was immediately irritated for too many reasons to consider, and since dancing wasn't an option, she glared at McCree, noting the way he found joy in her sudden assertiveness.

'So be it. I'll play your little game. As you said, it's far better than spending another moment conversing with a ruffian such as yourself.'

'Heh. I'll take that as a compliment, m'am.'

* * *

Overwatch's facility wasn't a virtual reality setup, like Talon's, but it was still fairly unique in the way it presented itself, nonetheless. Torbjorn begrudgingly granted McCree and Widow access, claiming he was busy enough as it was, and when the cowboy and sniper stepped into the facility, Widow could comprehend how the place worked well enough. Still, McCree explained with his trademark nonchalance.

'The targets pop up and are randomized. Headshots are worth more points and put em' down right away. Anything else needs a couple of hits. Blowin' the brains out is always best, right?'

'…Indeed. I recall.'

'Yeah. But you were pretty messed up last time, right? Just makin' sure.' McCree shrugged. 'You gotta reload every twelve shots by shooting at the ground like them old arcade games.'

'So odd.'

'A little, but whatever. Targets don't got a set route. Civilians show up here and there, too. Bet Talon don't have that kinda feature, huh?'

'No.'

'Figures.'

Widow huffed, looking over the equipment and getting a feel for how much space she had to work with. The area was built to look like an old factory, but she could see where targets could potentially pop up. Her brain processed it all at lightning speed, feeding her every angle and position available with but a glance. She didn't even realize her eyes were flickering within her sockets, analyzing all the measurements required to use her abilities at their maximum potential.

'You understand I was brainwashed, correct?' She finally said clearly, causing McCree to blow a deep billow of smoke, chewing on his cigarette.

'That's what I'm told.'

'Then why harass me as such?'

'Don't trust you. Simple.'

'After all I've done?'

'Gerard trusted you. Look where that got him.'

' _Imbecile._ '

'Yeah. Whatever name you called me don't matter. I ain't giving you an inch so long as I'm around.'

Widow cracked her shoulders and then worked any remaining kinks out of her neck. She wouldn't get mad. She would simply get even. If Lena were to say such things, perhaps she would be bothered further, but Jesse McCree meant nothing to her. Nothing whatsoever.

'If I win,' She started, testing the weight of her fake gun. It was a little lighter than her Widow's Kiss, but fairly manageable. 'You will allow me to see Dr. Ziegler immediately thereafter.'

'No dice.' McCree shook his head. 'Not until she's feelin' a bit better.'

Widow didn't see why that mattered, but she changed her request easily enough.

'So be it. In that case, I will ask that you treat me with the respect I deserve moving forward. Do we have a deal?'

McCree filtered through the possibilities in his brain, but then extended his cybernetic arm, gripping Widow's hand with an iron hold.

'Got yourself a deal, missy. Decent stakes. This should be fun.'

The man went to a small terminal and punched in the necessary information, the beeping of his commands initiating the course. Soft humming began around the two individuals, and McCree rotated one of his arms in preparation, spacing his feet apart just right and navigating the cigarette in his mouth to the side in a natural motion. Widow hated how he reminded her of Gerard. His confidence. His natural, bizarre charm despite the way he talked to her. He was a man's man, likely loved by his fellow male agents. There wasn't a sense of longing within Widow, however, to her slight dismay. Just sadness. A sadness that was deeper than before. A sadness she didn't quite understand nor felt she wanted to.

'I'll go first. Give you a little show'

'So be it.'

'Ain't gonna hold back now like before, you hear? Usually treat the ladies with a special sort of consideration, but for you, I'll make an exception.'

'I would want it no other way.'

A glimmer passed over McCree's eye then, and he turned to the course, stepping into it and hearing the buzzer sound, Athena's recorded voice announcing the beginning of the drill.

Targets began appearing almost immediately thereafter, and McCree was so quick on the draw Widow could just barely follow his hand's movements. He was a minimalist, scarcely flicking his wrist as sounds exploded about him, the imaginary bullets hitting through the holographic target's brains, a satisfying "ping" indicating his critical hit success. Civilian's were blue, and enemies were red. Yellow showcased where the hit was made. The longer the course went on, the more difficult it became, with multiple enemies beginning to appear simultaneously, seemingly holding hostages much of the time, even going so far as to using the innocent holograms as shields, providing but the smallest of targets to hit. The improvements made to the training course from before were impressive.

By the end, McCree was showcasing just how much of a monster he had become. Widow, admittedly, was impressed. No one in Talon but her had this kind of skill, and when the man was surrounded by no less than six enemies, three of which held civilians in front of him, Widow thought perhaps he would finally slip up, as the course was likely nearing its end.

'Heh. Guess it's high noon…' The man uttered, and Widow could only hear him because of her heightened senses.

A millisecond later, almost all at once, the enemies were "dead", only one of them not suffering from a headshot and requiring a singular finishing shot to end the mission and display a barrage of numbers over the main terminal to indicate McCree's score. That same score fed into another screen where other Overwatch agents could be seen. McCree held first place, with Ana in second, Jack third, and Lena in fourth. The girl's name sent a wave of panic through Widow's veins, and she turned away from the four letters, closing her eyes to better focus on what she would do next.

'Not bad.' McCree adjusted his hat. 'Only reason I can beat out Ana is because this here is close quarter combat kinda. When it comes to sniping, she's got me, hands down. Woman is somethin' else. You got a hit in, I'm guessin', cause yer face through her off. That's it.'

'Perhaps.' Widow would admit. 'But on the battlefield, the reason doesn't matter. Whomever wins, walks away alive.'

'Tch.' McCree relented. 'Can't argue with that.'

"Player two, please ready yourself. Course commencing in 5…4…3…2…"

'Good luck.' The cowboy sighed.

'Keep your luck. I _don't_ miss.'

The buzzer went off, and Widow was back in Talon's training course, Moira sickeningly evaluating her condition and skills. The genetically enhanced woman had to forcibly shrug off the memories, such thoughts bothering her more than she cared to admit. Automatically, her body moved, easily keeping pace with McCree's numbers, the head being the only part of any hologram that turned yellow. Beeping pulsated all around her of every variety, and she grimaced inwardly, a cloud of haze filling her mind and vision. She killed and killed and killed, yet unlike in her past, she felt _nothing_.

It wasn't like before. Killing could only scratch the surface of her desires. So, what did she want – need – now? The answer was simple enough, she knew, for recent memories showcased feelings she thought would remain dormant forever. Feelings she hadn't fully realized she was even capable of. Feelings her late husband hadn't even stirred in her. Feelings she at once hated and cherished in a madness of consideration.

She hated it.

Thus, she killed. Killed. Killed. Killed. Killed. Muffle the emotions. Silence the wishes. Turn away from a future that was once more repulsive than the idea of denying a hit.

Widow's body tensed, but the constant sounds went on. Only when the course ended with a particularly loud buzzer did she see through the darkness, her eyes returning to a semblance of normality, and her muscles relaxing slightly. She looked at her score, squinting through her adjusting normality, and wondered how it appeared to be so much lower than McCree's. She was hitting the targets. All of them. Every single one with perfect accuracy. She had given herself over to Widowmaker completely, and _she_ didn't miss. What had happened?

'Wow.' McCree whistled, shutting down the program as Widow's score crumbled far down on the list. 'How yer still allowed to walk around without a tighter leash is beyond me, let me tell ya.'

The understanding hit Widow before McCree said it, a sinking in her heart causing her to drop the gun in hand and swallow in frustration.

'Congrats. You hit anything that moved; including civilians. But they don't matter to Talon, so, guess I shouldn't be surprised, huh? Negative points for every innocent down. We do things different over here in Overwatch, remember? I ain't got no perfect track record either, but at least I ain't no mass murderer. Yer not ready to go on another mission till Angela says so. Hell no.'

Widow grabbed at her arm, hoping McCree couldn't see her trembling. The medicine…was becoming weaker than she could imagine. Widowmaker was coming back, and Amelie didn't even realize it until now. If she wasn't careful, she could hurt someone; perhaps even…!

'You're…correct.' Widow managed, her voice a touch higher than she wanted it to be.

'Huh?'

'I lost myself. I couldn't…think clearly. This was…terribly enlightening.'

McCree scratched the back of his head, groaning in frustration but then sauntering over to Widow, shutting down the terminal and course as he did so.

'Listen,' He started, his gruffness softening as Gerard's could. 'I don't hate you. Hell, I feel bad fer you, alright? Just got a chip on my shoulder that won't get on sometimes. Maybe cause I see a lot of what I used to be in you, I don't know. That might be it.'

'Oh? You were manipulated into killing your spouse and then made into a murdering machine at the whim of a madwoman?'

'…No.'

'An outlaw by choice, then?'

'Somethin' like that.'

'Then don't you think,' Widow grasped onto this rare moment of clarity. 'I deserve a little more than chivalric condolence at the sight of my seldomly displayed vulnerability?'

McCree twisted the cigarette in his mouth and nodded slowly but in seeming understanding.

'Yeah. Maybe.'

'…Thank-you.' Widow muttered.

Before the man could say anything further, however, Lena barrelled into the training facility, and she gasped at the sight, blinking over to Widow and grabbing at her shoulders.

'You better not be bullying her, McCree! You okay, Amelie? You look a might shaken.'

Widow flinched out of Lena's grasp, her touch electrifying.

'Fine. I'm fine.'

'Just playin' a little game is all. Wanted to see what the lady could do down here.' McCree's mannerisms had changed dramatically all of a sudden. He rubbed his neck, almost sheepish as he waited for Lena's response.

'Are you daft? Can't just put a gun in her hand willy-nilly! Amelie is having a rough go of it lately, okay? Leave her alone, McCree.'

'Gotcha. Gotcha. My bad.' The cowboy raised his hands in surrender. 'How's our angel and Ana's little girl anyway?'

'Not sure. When I didn't see either of you I rushed about until I heard someone catching you both coming down here.'

'Huh. That so?' McCree adjusted his belt, tossing his cigarette into the trash. 'Widow here wants to have a chat with Angela. Think she can manage that?'

Widow blinked, turning to the man with surprise.

'Oi. Didn't think you'd be okay with that, mister.'

'…Changed my mind.'

'Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Ange gave the okay. That's why I wanted to find you, Amelie.'

Widow gave McCree a lingering gaze, but then nodded to Lena, her heart still hammering at her chest.

'So be it. Lead the way.'

* * *

The lab Angela and Fareeha were currently residing in was a little crowded, but Widow could understand why. This doctor truly had a place in many a person's heart. Even Widow valued her beyond belief due to her abilities. How many individuals relied on this singular woman? What kind of pressure did that entail? The thought held weight, and Widow was almost thankful she gained quite the attention when she first entered the room to distract her.

'Be nice!' Lena warned Jack primarily, getting a small chuckle out of Winston.

Zenyatta gave Widow a small, almost knowing nod, and Ana met the other sniper's eye for a moment, a mutual respect exchanged with a dash of venomous rivalry.

'I'm…sorry to interrupt.' Widow said aloud, and there was an immediate shift in the room's mood, as if everyone collectively realized Talon's toy was certainly far more than a tool for destruction now.

'How do you feel, Amelie?' Angela asked with obvious pain, and she continued to hide her innate disdain for the "killer" of Fareeha's mother at bay.

'My state is irrelevant at the moment. How are _you_ , Dr. Ziegler?' Widow countered, seeing how decrepit Angela appeared the more her vision analyzed her.

'I've been better…'

'What happened?'

'It doesn't matter. She's hurt, and that's all you need to know.' Jack was being defensive, and that was fine, but Angela shook her head, meeting Widow's gaze with a resolve the sniper wasn't aware existed.

'This is the result…' She breathed out slowly, touching her chest in pain, a warm, golden hue encircling her thanks to Zenyatta nearby. '…of bringing Fareeha back from the dead.'

A heavy, powerful silence followed the doctor's statement, and when nobody laughed, Widow knew her to be speaking the hard, unrelenting, intense truth. She didn't have a response to such a claim. How could she? It was an impossibility. Ever since humans existed, they had sought ways to avoid death, yet that was life's one true certainty. However, now this doctor – this intangible genius – had dealt a blow to even that? Moira saw Angela Ziegler as a rival. Widow now knew for certain there was no comparison whatsoever.

'I see…' Widow responded, and again, the room's reaction to her leveled answer seemed unified in its satisfaction. 'I will assume this feat was accomplished due to your…feelings for her?' She indicated Fareeha, the young woman utterly still, the machinery attached to her picking at old scabs in the depths of Widow's mind.

'They were certainly…inspiring.' Angela admitted, a small grin making an appearance on her face.

'Will she make it?' Widow went on, practically choking on the words.

'That is yet to be seen.'

'Fareeha's a tough girl! I _know_ she'll be okay!' Lena's optimism was nice, but clearly fantastical. Widow could tell this was no simple matter. For so many elite Overwatch members to be present, Widow understood just how dire the situation was.

'Did you need to ask Dr. Ziegler something, Widowmaker?' Jack questioned, and Widow knew he was annoyed with her presence. He was lashing out, and she was the obvious target to the outburst. That was fine.

'I simply wished to check on her. That is all.'

Angela closed her eyes before meeting Widow's again.

'Once I've recovered adequately, we will plan another attempt at your condition.'

'That wasn't…' Widow glanced away. Naturally, part of her _did_ want to know if her only hope for living a normal life again would be alright, but it wasn't her entire reason for visiting…was it?

'Feel better.' Widow muttered almost defiantly, turning and leaving the room. She heard Lena say something quirky herself, and then the girl was hot on Widow's heel, as usual.

'You good, Luv?'

'Yes.' Widow lied, striding through Overwatch Gibraltar's base in frustration. Alone with Lena. Perfect. 'However, I want a moment to myself. Do you mind?'

Lena zipped out and around Widow, standing in front of her and squinting in earnest confusion.

'What's goin' on, Luv? You've been weird since this morning.'

'Oh? Perhaps I'm still recovering from that ridiculous orgy.' She shoved past Lena, screaming at herself for being so cross with the girl who had done nothing wrong.

'Whoa! Wait a minute! _Now_ you're having regrets?'

'…Perhaps.' Widow lied again, not wanting to see Lena anymore.

'Bloody hell! Why do ya gotta be so confusing? I think I know what's up and you start on like this!?'

'Being involved with me in any capacity at this point only guarantees confusion and heartache. That's what you get when dealing with a broken woman such as myself. I thought you were aware.'

Lena sighed, shaking her head in honest irritation.

'I think you need your nap, young lady.' She quipped, and for some reason, Widow didn't mind being babied in that moment.

'I agree…' She submitted, and Lena gave her a wink, which was so hated yet loved at the same time.

The two women made it back to Lena's room, and the younger girl flicked on the television, muting it but navigating to Widow's favourite channel without a second thought. She only lit the place up dimly, knowing how her guest liked it, and then put on some hot water for Widow to have some tea.

It was agonizing to watch.

'I'm gonna leave you alone for a bit, okay? That's what you want, innit?'

Widow clawed at her own throat inwardly. This was for the best. She knew it. So, why couldn't Widow be content? Why did it hurt so much more than she expected? This woman had flipped her life upside down. She owed her everything. Was that why she felt such things? No. Not quite. The basis of their relationship could have been cordial at best if Lena wasn't so damn loving and considerate. She constantly exemplified what kind of person she was, and after persistent hints at wanting something more, a piece in Widow she didn't think she could ever possess shifted, not perceiving such a connection as completely outrageous.

She allowed Lena into her heart, and her heart welcomed what it meant to be utterly loved. Not quite the same love that Angela and Fareeha possessed. It was a different shape of the thing, but a love nonetheless, and a love Widow struggled against even now. For she watched Lena move about the area and discovered the comfort in it all. It was similar to the notions of vulnerability Widow had experienced at Emily's apartment; the exposing nature of that evening leading to an event Widow wouldn't soon forget nor would ever want to.

However, she _liked_ Emily. Quite a bit. Respected her immensely. At first, she thought this was a good thing. But now, watching Lena bring tea over to her, the girl smiling earnestly and looking at Widow – at the woman for what she was completely – Widow knew this all would have been so much simpler if she thought Emily wasn't worthy of her hero.

'Thank-you…' Widow accepted the hot drink.

'You can't leave my place though, okay? I'm technically not allowed to have you all by yourself.'

'I'll be fine.'

'I know, Luv. You got this.'

It hurt because the words meant so much. She trusted her. She had faith in her. Widow wanted to reach out and touch her…but she wouldn't. She couldn't. She had made her choice. Emily didn't deserve that. Confusing Lena now wouldn't be fair to any of them.

'Thanks.' For everything. For always being there since the second she could. For blinking into her life and asking, "Psst. What you lookin' at?". For taking hold of Widow – of Amelie's – hand and never letting go. For showing Widow what warmth was again. "Thanks" didn't seem like enough, but it was all Widow could manage. All she trusted herself saying.

'Catch you later?' She was being considerate. Lena wasn't the type to leave someone alone, Widow knew, but they knew each other so much better now. Lena knew how to handle Widow's irritating temper.

'Inevitably.' Widow looked about, shrugging a touch, this natural interaction further pushing her into madness.

'Alrighty. Take it easy, Amelie. Seeya!'

'Goodbye, Lena…' And the door slid shut, leaving Widow alone to release the knot in her throat and soul. '…I love you.'


	68. LXVIII: Mercy

Mercy

She slipped into her new living quarters and was considering trying to startle Fareeha, but when a soft, melodic song passed through her ears the moment Angela stepped into the space, she hastily reconsidered, hanging up her lab coat and releasing her hair messily.

Home. Or something similar to the home Angela had never cared to have yet fancied a little more than ever before. Someone waiting for her. Wanting to see her not because of her abilities, but because of who she was as a person inside and out. They had been through much, Fareeha and she, yet their relationship only seemed to grow stronger and more absolute with every trial. What they had endured forced them past some couples with many more years of exclusivity, allowing them to confront difficult questions and painful realities much earlier than the average pairing.

Angela covered her mouth, growing emotional suddenly, her eyes burning a bit. She loved having Fareeha here. She loved being so comfortable with another human being. She loved the simple idea of sleeping next to her from now on. Feeling her warmth nearby. Lavishing the simple touches from the other woman. A kiss here. A lingering gaze there. It was so intimate, raw, and real. She had no choice but to savor it all…especially now.

Angela crept deeper into the living space, down a small hallway to her room, remaining just outside it as the sweet sounds of Fareeha's guitar continued to echo throughout the area. Angela could practically see the notes, leaning against the wall and basking in the calmness of the moment.

Fareeha was quite good, as far as Angela could tell, although her humming could've been a little more in tune. She had an almost Native American touch to the music, and it was overly pleasant. From what Angela knew, Fareeha's father _was_ linked to such a culture in some way, although the details were scarce, thanks to Ana's secrecy regarding the matter. Maybe Angela would ask Fareeha about it one day.

Still, Angela peeked around the corner, hoping to catch the view of Fareeha playing all on her own, and wasn't disappointed, the sight immediately making her heart race. She was in a comfortable pair of navy-blue jean shorts and a loose, white t-shirt. The way the muscles in her forearm pulsated as she played made Angela swoon. Since the beginning, she had found the fairly defined woman's physical representation of her training and strength alluring, and this occasion was hardly any different.

Suddenly, however, Fareeha stopped, and Angela hid herself again, unsure why until she wasn't given a chance to think on it further.

'Ms. Angela Ziegler?' Fareeha called out, and Angela closed her eyes, sighing to herself in embarrassment.

'How on earth did you know?' She stepped around to the opening of the room, resting her hip against the right side of the frame.

'I'm a trained soldier, remember? I could feel your presence a mile away.'

'I'm sure that's an exaggeration. I was rather stealthy, I thought.'

'Not for me.' Fareeha grinned, beginning to place her guitar to the side before Angela lifted her hand in protest.

'Wait! Would you terribly mind…playing a bit more for me?'

The younger woman seemed to hesitate, voicing her concerns shortly thereafter.

'I…I'm not very confident in my skill, really. It's just something I've poked around with for a bit. I'm all self-taught, although my father gave me little lessons here and there growing up before…well, before he wasn't around as much.'

Angela's heart hurt at the obvious pain in Fareeha's voice no matter how much she attempted to mask it with disconnect. It seemed like a touchy subject, and so soon after her physical recovery, Angela felt it best not to reopen such psychological wounds by prying just yet.

'I won't force you to, but what I heard attempting to sneak about was rather lovely.' Angela moved in next to Fareeha on her – on _their_ – bed, and placed her hands in her own lap, leaning in expectantly.

'Fine.' Fareeha sighed. 'You know I can't deny you anything.'

'Oh? Really? I had no idea!' Angela giggled.

'You're the worst.'

'And you love me for it.'

Fareeha rolled her eyes, but then met Angela's, and it was as though Angela herself could _see_ the affection passing over her. It made her whole body shiver in mutual endearment.

'God, do I ever…' Fareeha muttered to herself more than anything, but Angela laughed again, kissing her on the cheek.

'Well, then. Do go on!'

'Right.' Fareeha blushed a little, and she looked away at the floor, speaking to it sheepishly. 'Before we…um…started dating I…sort of put this together thinking about you.'

Angela breathed in sharply. Could this woman be any more adorable?

'How positively girlish of you!'

'Well, I _am_ a woman, you know.'

Angela caught the claim laced in what could have been past pains, and shook her head dismissively.

'That is abundantly clear, Fareeha. Why, you _are_ one of the most beautiful girls _I've_ ever met, if we're to be honest.' And it was nothing but the truth. If Fareeha were a man, Angela wasn't sure she would have fallen for him as easily. It wasn't impossible, she supposed, but somehow far less desirable. She hadn't given it a bountiful amount of consideration until this very second, but she wondered if she was a little more like Lena than she thought. She recognized when men were attractive enough, but she never really _desired_ them. Perhaps that's why she had remained single for so long. She didn't consider the possibility that she simply found women the more alluring sex. After all, she thought Hana Song was utterly stimulating in every way. Fareeha, on the other hand, seemed much more particular about who the person was deep down, and fell for the soul first and the body second. Male or female didn't matter to her. Yet, it appeared to make a vast difference to Angela.

Intriguing.

Fareeha strummed her guitar and created a soft melody, the sounds much gentler than the piece prior, as if she were delicately putting her feelings into a song. It was hesitant and shy, much like Fareeha was in the beginning of their interactions, yet there was such clear strength behind the notes as well. A woman with power, at the end of it all. A woman capable of being just as fierce as the rest of them when necessary. Fareeha hummed a little as she went on, clearly taken by the collection of sounds, and began bobbing her head alongside the beat, her passion for music very much on display before Angela now more than ever.

The angel of Overwatch was flattered, feeling the emotions being passed on to her, and she held her heart, its pulse quickening the more she let herself be taken by this simple little exchange. She adored Fareeha. She truly did. And she fell more in love with her with every interaction. Her honesty and dedication couldn't be matched. Her handsome yet beautiful demeanor impossible to compete with. She looked so unbelievably attractive as she played her music, her hobby a part of Angela's life now.

The final note hung in the air, and Angela took a moment before clapping enthusiastically, giggling uncontrollably out of utter joy.

'Do you have a title for the song?'

Fareeha gripped her instrument fondly, glancing to Angela briefly.

'…Some Days I Dream of an Angel.'

Angela couldn't stop her eyes from watering. It was that silly, unfaltering, earnest attitude again. She meant every word and the implications alongside them. Angela wiped her face hastily, not wanting to upset Fareeha in any way. She stood up, catching her breath, and tugged at her shirt.

'I-I should change…' She managed, and Fareeha shifted on the bed, now able to lay her guitar to the side of it. She was grinning, able to tell how flustered Angela was so easily these days.

'How was work?' Fareeha asked mercifully, deciding not to tease her lady.

'Relatively quiet, thankfully. I was able to make quite the progress on Widowmaker's condition. I should be able to perform the operation in a day or two, God willing.' Angela felt Fareeha's eyes on her as she began to strip, hiding her blushing face as she shuffled out of her skirt and pulled down her nylons. She was thankful she had decided to wear rather sexy black underwear, making the removal of her shirt a little easier. To get back at Fareeha for putting her so on edge, she snapped her bra off, and wandered to their shared closet, angling herself just enough so Fareeha would have to obviously struggle to catch a glimpse of the doctor's bare chest.

'You sadist…' Fareeha mumbled.

'What was that?' Angela turned, buttoning up one of Fareeha's white shirts, leaving her cleavage exposed enough as she snuggled in next to the woman anew.

'Nothing.' A beat, likely to recover from the effect Angela's wearing of Fareeha's top had, to the doctor's mischievous pleasure. 'So, Widow will be allowed on such an important mission, after all?'

'Hard to say. She's been having issues lately, from what I can tell. Our therapy sessions indicate her mind is in intense turmoil and, as a result, she is struggling to calm her violent urges more than usual. She will not tell me what troubles her, but it is clearly the main cause of all her problems as of late. She injured one of our agents yesterday, in fact, for he made some form of derogatory comment. He was in the wrong, but certainly didn't deserve the bruises inflicted.'

'What did he say?'

'Lena had to tell me, eventually, for I couldn't get a straight answer out of the man. She claims he called her a…er…killer dyke?' Angela didn't feel comfortable saying the word, and was surprised by how much it irked her.

'Pardon me?' Fareeha's jaw tightened, an instant tell that she was infuriated. 'That's sexual harassment. Was he given a warning?'

'Quite. Don't think for a moment Lena let _that_ slide. Unfortunately, due to Widow's reaction, he won't be punished further.'

'Hm. Understandable, I suppose.'

Angela observed Fareeha's face, but couldn't quite read it effectively, and thus, decided to ask her outright.

'What do you make of the offensive slur?'

'Idiotic.' Fareeha hissed. 'Why say such a thing? I don't understand.'

'You wouldn't.' Angela smiled painfully. 'Because you're a pure maiden.'

'…What?'

'Heheh! I'm sorry. But it's somewhat true. Hurling insults due to some psychological inferiority complex is far, far beneath a person of your calibre. Don't pay it any mind.'

'Fine. I'll take your word for it.'

Angela rested her head on Fareeha's shoulder then, loving the feeling of the other woman.

'Don't ever change, Fareeha. You are so perfect to me.'

'I am not. I have many flaws.'

'We all do, but some have more tolerable ones than others.'

'True…'

Angela wrapped her arms around Fareeha's firm waist now.

'But isn't that your answer?' Fareeha asked suddenly, and Angela blinked in confusion.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Well,' Fareeha sighed in annoyance. 'If someone said that about me, I wouldn't care, really. However, if they made that comment and you were with me, I would react _much_ more strongly. Insult _my_ lady? I'd break whoever dared.'

'A chivalric sentiment, indeed, but you're suggesting that…' Angela's mouth hung open, surprised she hadn't put the pieces together herself. 'That Amelie could have feelings for Lena?'

'I'm terrible at such things, so, who knows? I'm just saying.'

Angela perked up, tapping Fareeha's shoulder in excitement.

'And she can't do anything about it because Lena is back with Emily, her girlfriend from before re-joining Overwatch!'

'Oh…!' Fareeha nodded. 'Maybe?'

'It's worth asking, should the opportunity present itself. Interesting…'

'Sounds like a ridiculous drama.'

'Indeed! But if I can somehow help soothe that particular sore spot for Widow, it might help the surgery along nicely. A healthy-minded patient makes a vast difference in surgical results, I'll have you know.'

'That's good.'

'If it's true…' Angela cupped her chin. 'How riveting the development would be!'

'It just sounds problematic to me.'

'Quite. Lena would certainly have her hands full, I suppose.' Angela stood up, seeing the way Fareeha's eyes jetted about, sneaking in glances of her naked legs. She never tired of feeling so desired; especially knowing how positively earnest Fareeha was in said longing. 'So, what do you think of the place? It's still somewhat plain, but we could certainly add our own personal flair as time goes on. I'm not sure how much longer this battle will be waged, but we may as well get cozy for the time being.'

'I was…very happy coming in here, Angela.' Fareeha said simply enough. 'The thought of being with you so much, well, it's just another dream come true. I hope you don't tire of me.'

'Don't be silly, Fareeha. My work keeps me too busy for such a thing to ever occur.'

'Hahah! True.'

'I _do_ believe we are in desperate need of some pictures of the two of us. I can only longingly gaze at your registration profile for so long when I miss you holed up in my lab.'

'O-oh…! I wouldn't mind that.'

'Yet, we are both such characters that we find the somewhat vain act a little troublesome. A pity. Shall we begin right this moment? A private shot of the two of us?'

'Yes, please.' Fareeha was smiling broadly, and Angela adored her for it. She hastily went to the hall where her lab coat was and extracted the new phone Overwatch had issued her. It was state-of-the-art and one of the newest models available. It was practically paper-thin, capable of projecting the data in a touch-screen as needed. Angela was relatively savvy with such things, and competently set the device up on her and Fareeha's dresser nearby, getting in close to the girl until their cheeks were touching and she was gripping the other woman tightly.

'We have five pictures about to be taken. Are you ready?'

'What? Five!?'

'Don't be shy! Just pretend you love me.'

'T-there is no pretending, but don't we just need to smile?'

'Bah! Only if you wish to be boring! Smile for the first and then have some fun for the rest!'

'U-um…!'

'The beeper is starting! Four seconds, Fareeha!' Angela giggled, reveling in the girl's sweet panic.

'Ah!'

A click signified the first shot taken, and the screen projected showcased the photo before minimizing it and starting the countdown anew.

'Silly face now, Fareeha!'

'O-okay…!'

The resulting picture made Angela howl, for Fareeha had brought her jaw forward and lowered her lip to show her teeth. She looked hilarious. Leagues above Angela's pufferfish expression.

'Try for seductive in this one!'

'I don't know how!'

Angela may have laughed even harder at this one, for they both looked a little awkward and goofy, Angela appearing more intoxicated than anything and Fareeha as though she had been holding her breath for hours on end.

'An easy one this time! Look tough!'

Ah. There. Fareeha could make a mean face no problem. The comical part was that Angela found it incredibly "seductive" in its own right. She would have a special place for such a shot.

'You look as though you're in pain there.' Fareeha teased, and Angela gave her a light tap to the arm.

'How dare you! For that, I'll make you kiss me in this final picture.'

'Make me?' Fareeha raised a brow, and before Angela could say anything more, the woman was engulfed in the embrace of her lover, Fareeha's hands holding her head and back as she pressed her lips against Angela's own, an immediate groan humming within her whole body.

'A-ah…' Angela gasped once Fareeha parted, aware she was already sensitive to just the thought of being intimate with Fareeha, many days having passed since their last moment, and the fear of death separating them still fresh and mortifying.

'Oh. That's a good one.' Fareeha appraised, nodding at the picture shown.

'My goodness…' Angela tucked some of her hair behind her ear. 'It's…somewhat stimulating, isn't it?'

'In a way, yes.'

Angela calmed her nerves, going to her phone and quickly forwarding the images taken to Fareeha.

'There. Now we both have copies.' The doctor wasted no time changing her wallpaper to the "tough" photo, inwardly swooning at Fareeha's dangerously capable expression. 'How are you feeling, anyway, Fareeha? I assumed well, but a pulse check never hurt anyone.'

'Decent, thank-you. The tingling in my skin is becoming less noticeable, and my mental state seems to be calming some, thankfully. I encountered Hana on my way here, and had dinner with her and some agents that were quite obviously interested in her romantically.'

'Oh, no doubt. She's surely irresistible to most individuals. I'm glad to hear she's fitting in well enough. While you were recovering, she and Dr. Zhou hit it off relatively well.'

'Mei is here now?'

'She arrived perhaps a day or so ago? She can be a bit awkward, so, I'm happy Hana is helping her feel more comfortable.'

'Me, too. I like Mei.'

'You prefer your women more voluptuous, then?'

'Wha – ? No! I-I was just saying she's a good person and helped me rescue you from Moira. I didn't get to thank her properly.'

'I know, Fareeha. I'm merely teasing you.'

'You're the perfect fit for me in every way, Angela. Please don't forget that.'

'I won't. My apologies.'

Fareeha smirked at the answer, pulling Angela toward her so that she was standing between the woman's legs hanging over the bedside. She felt the purposeful touch of Fareeha's hands, their strong grip caressing her thighs all around and teasing just the bottom of her backside.

'What about you, Angela? I'm guessing you're still recovering as well?'

'For better or worse, the nanomachines have worked their magic. Once I knew you would likely be fine my body reacted accordingly, capable of pushing itself into near-normal condition for the time being.'

'I'm happy to hear that.' She touched behind Angela's knee, the spot overly sensitive. Angela wondered if Fareeha could feel her skin prickling in response, her heart speeding up despite this not being their first time in the early stages of intimacy.

'The human body is so curious. However, I suppose it isn't completely foreign to other animals as well. Depression is a lethal feeling, and I dare say I would have succumbed to it if I lost you. Frightening, really. I didn't think myself so weak, but life without you simply felt impossible.'

She was growing more bold, feeling around and within the bottom of the shirt Angela wore, ever so briefly pressing between her legs where she surely recognized what the heat and progressing dampness meant. Angela wanted to moan, but she swallowed the urge.

'I can understand that. I thought fighting for Overwatch would be the pinnacle of my desires, but I now know that not to be true.'

She lifted Angela's shirt and began kissing around her naval, the area ticklish and the doctor's knees buckling from the feeling.

'A-are you…well enough for such things, Fareeha?' Angela asked curiously, wondering why she was getting nervous suddenly.

'More than capable.' The woman responded hungrily. Now that she was comfortable with Angela, she truly took on the more aggressive role when it came to lovemaking. Angela had her moments, but this felt so natural.

She played with Angela's underwear, teasing all around it and continuing to massage her legs, her grip so powerful yet gentle when it needed to be. Angela combed the other woman's hair once she threw her phone onto the bed, knowing she was more than ready, and Fareeha could likely tell, to her embarrassment.

As though responding to Angela's apprehensions, Fareeha tugged the black material to the side and began kissing between the doctor's legs, consuming the longing that Angela knew she harboured for this spectacular woman, and pushing her tongue in deep, forcing Angela to hold Fareeha's head for support lest she fall from the erotic stimulation.

'Oh…Fareeha…' She hummed quietly, and the words only seemed to spur her lover onward, her performance heightened.

Fareeha's hands continued to navigate Angela's body, and they reached up, kneading her firm breasts, and pinching the hardened tips in perfect rotation. There was something to be said about the entirety of the act occurring with articles of clothing still on, and Angela's pulse was pounding in her head, her wanting of all this too much for her senses.

'Jesus, you have such a beautiful pussy.' Fareeha stated quite suddenly, and Angela didn't even register the words initially they took her by surprise so. It seemed so out of character, and indeed, the doctor almost didn't believe she had heard the woman correctly, but when the immediate shock faded, the lewdness of such a comment had its effect, and Angela bit at her lip, Fareeha sucking in a flawless way as her fingers penetrated so wonderfully deep and in just the right parts of her.

'I…I didn't think you could say…such things…' Angela sighed, barely keeping her focus.

'Neither did I.' She admitted in between the pleasure she expertly provided. What a difference confidence could make in a lover. Fareeha knew she was adored, and could perform excessively well with such knowledge. Angela was on the brink already, and it felt like they had hardly begun. A trail of saliva had made its way down the side of her mouth she was so enraptured, and she didn't think her cheeks could flush more.

Ultimately, Fareeha's nearly crude comment was arousing, because it revealed another side of her that Angela hadn't known about. This woman – this controlled, sometimes stoic, mature, considerate, powerful woman – was a little kinky, and it was wildly alluring in its mystery of juxtaposition. Only Angela would ever hear her say such things, and the doctor revelled in the information.

She had heard of "talking dirty", but never thought she would be personally stimulated by the tip of the said fetish. How educated Angela had become in such a short period of time. It made her want to explore further. It made her want to try an experiment of her own…

Her stomach tightened, and that escalating buzz flowed through her into her groin, Angela whimpering with release. She gripped at Fareeha's head desperately, gritting her teeth and groaning between the restriction.

'Ah…h-hah…a-ah…!'

Fareeha licked her lips, looking up at Angela gorgeously, her recently applied, token mascara making her eyes pop attractively.

'Very good…Fareeha…' Angela sighed, falling onto the bed and laying on her back. 'Perhaps because it's been a few days but, my goodness, that felt wonderful.'

'Agreed. I was very into it.' Fareeha's face was red, and she looked uncomfortable.

'Clearly. Saying such things.' Angela waved a finger weakly.

'Er…I-I'm sorry. In the moment it was fine, but reflecting upon the comment, well, I'm a little ashamed.'

'Don't be.' Angela sat up on her elbows, shocked by how her body was still twitching with remnants of pleasure. 'It was sexy, one might suggest.'

'Oh?'

'You simply said what was on your mind in that second. I…appreciated it. Makes a woman feel good.'

'If you say so…'

'A peek at the unfiltered side of Fareeha's mind. Very intriguing! You've inspired me to try something I was hesitant about attempting, for we can't simply leave you in such a state, and I'd rather you relax a tad while _I_ service _you_.'

'…Right.'

She wasn't arguing. Clearly Fareeha was unsatisfied, and rightly so. If she felt even a sliver of what Angela was experiencing, she was ready to finish the job herself if necessary.

'Well, then…' Angela stood up, helping Fareeha to the bed and laying her down, touching her all over in a massage of sorts. She hastily stripped off the woman's jeans, grinning at her boyish boxer briefs. They did little to hide her womanly curves and dampened desires.

'Hah…' Fareeha shuddered, and it was cute.

Angela went on, slowly and methodically teasing her lady, painfully hinting at what was to come, but leaving Fareeha in chaotic anticipation. She kissed her deeply, using the opportunity to lift the younger girl's top over her head and grapple the bountiful, untanned mounds that remained.

'Yes…' Fareeha breathed. She was begging for it, and that fact alone made Angela want to give everything she could, throwing caution to the wind.

'A moment. Close your eyes.' Angela asked, and it was simple for Fareeha due to the fact her lids were barely open to begin with.

Still hesitant, despite her being encouraged by Fareeha's boldness, Angela extracted the gift Lena had provided her and Fareeha, the organic device cleaned and refilled by Angela herself. She had done some extended research on the "toy", discovering it cost quite the pretty penny, and was the latest model, nearly perfecting the ability to become a true part to whomever used it, the nerves around the female's form capable of similar sensations to begin with, therefore a strong foundation in place for frivolous science to intervene gleefully.

Angela removed her panties, tossing them to the side with a flick of her ankle, and slowly placed the extension over the appropriate area for maximum integration. It happened seamlessly, and Angela's hand flinched back, the nerves already attached and the notion that she had such am extension now a part of her almost frightening.

Nonetheless, the thought of using the newest member to the session put her already hazy mind into a frenzy, and she imagined taking Fareeha as a pseudo-male, pushing deep into her and watching her melt.

' _Incredible…_ ' Angela uttered to herself in German.

If she had heard of such a project in the past, she would have scoffed at the wasted resources and time, but after being on the receiving end of this very product, and now having equipped it herself, Angela had to admit she was impressed. Now, women like herself and Lena wouldn't miss out on a thing. It was perfect.

Like herself…and Lena…

She scoffed at herself for the baseless worry, and gently placed the phallic piece at the corner of Fareeha's mouth, the younger woman grinning slyly.

'Heh. I was wondering if you were going to try something like this.'

'I-is it…is it alright?' Angela wasn't sure she was nearly as capable as Fareeha at fulfilling such a role, but without another word, Fareeha wrapped her full lips around Angela and began consuming her, pulling back and swirling her tongue about in a surprisingly knowing way.

'O-oh, my…!' Angela could only say, hating that she wasn't Fareeha's first. She pushed the negative thoughts away, but they insisted on detracting from the moment, and Angela had to look hard at Fareeha in an attempt to dissuade further distraction.

'I've never been so into this…' Fareeha mentioned, licking Angela's tip and stroking her with a free hand.

'I-it's…interesting, isn't it…?' Angela barely got the words out.

'Again, it's totally different with you.' Fareeha went so deep the entire "toy" disappeared, and Angela had to force the woman off her in fear of prematurely ending the session.

'Your turn…' She whimpered, and straddled atop Fareeha, the girl's other hand already between her legs and preparing herself adamantly.

'Go slow. It's been a very long time, and it…it always hurt.'

'I don't think there will be an issue now.' Angela smiled softly, loving the rhetoric on display.

'No. I'd have to agree.'

Fareeha touched Angela's neck, her fingers still moist, and brought the woman in close, kissing her and then reaching between them, gripping at Angela and easing her against her body, slowly pressing in and out, rocking her hips against Angela's pulsating piece and the pent-up desire within her.

'Fareeha…' She almost begged.

'Slowly…' She repeated, and it only made Angela wilder.

'Please. I want to…'

'I know. Trust me. A-ah…But…this is part of the fun, right?'

'True. T-true…'

She was losing her mind in a frenzy of lust. The feeling of Fareeha's body progressively opening up to her and covering Angela in warmth was utterly ludicrous, yet Angela wanted to take this woman and aggressively fill her with everything she was capable of. They had grown so close; and the angel of Overwatch couldn't have ever imagined getting to this point upon their first encounter. Yet, here they were; completely exposed and wholly transfixed in the trust one another bore. Angela could feel the tears coming, and knew it was partially because of the endorphins being released, but was also aware of the cruel truth regarding both their lives.

They _had_ to live everyday like it was their last, because – for this point in time, at least – their days together were more finite than most.

'I love you…I love you so much…!' Fareeha shuddered, pushing against Angela's body and swaying with Angela's momentum, the strain on her back already painful. How did Fareeha manage this motion for so long and so easily? Her fitness obviously contributed, but still…!

'And I, you.' Angela gasped, thrusting as much as she could, but already fatigued.

Perhaps Fareeha could tell, because she flipped positions, laying Angela on her back and sitting atop of her suddenly, holding the doctor down with her powerful hand and beginning to rock side to side, easing herself back over Angela, and the sight of her body consuming the swelling piece a vision Angela wouldn't soon forget.

'I don't mind.' Fareeha assured Angela, and before she could respond, Fareeha continued to amaze her, easily satisfying the both of them with her legs flexing as she rode Angela into oblivion. All the doctor could do was caress Fareeha's shapely waist and hips, daring to push up at her gorgeous breasts and even being sent into a blur of rapturous delight when Fareeha gripped her hand and assisted her, licking at her own body revealing another kink Angela didn't know she had; the sight of her lover pleasuring herself.

'So good…' Fareeha acknowledged, pressing in as she rode forward, and stretching back so Angela was momentarily exposed prior to returning to the warmth and the tight insides of her lady.

'Truly…!' Angela concurred.

'Are you close…?'

'I'm doing everything in my power…not to end it too soon.'

'Heh. I-I know. It's…difficult, isn't it?'

'I-I'm sorry, Fareeha…'

'No. I-I'm almost there, too. A-ah…You're big…'

'The _object_ is big…'

'But it swells…in accordance to your arousal…U-uh…God…'

'R-really?'

Just like a real man? The wonders were endless. Science was ever bewildering. Fareeha placed her hands on Angela's stomach and her groin constricted over her, the sudden shift ending any reservations Angela attempted to have. Before she could understand what was happening, the substance she had used to refill the "toy" exploded out of her, her eyes going dumb, her mouth limp, and Fareeha's own screams of delight practically muffled by the ringing in Angela's ears.

Angela blinked, and she hastily realized she had passed out for perhaps a minute or two, the orgasmic release of a man paired with her own as a woman too much for her dainty frame to handle in all of its entirety.

'How rude.' Fareeha teased, already having cleaned up the mess Angela had created between her legs. She was still naked, thankfully.

'My phone…' The doctor patted around in a daze, obtaining the device and quickly lifting it above her and Fareeha's head.

'N-not now, Angela.'

'Post-intimacy picture, my dear. Smile, for goodness sake.'

She snapped the photo, gazing at it lovingly, both women's naked shoulders, strewn about hair, and semi-dazed gazes something to marvel. She then sat up, carefully disengaging the strange "toy" from her body and placing it within some towels prior to returning to Fareeha, practically leaping into her and snuggling closely, nuzzling her head beneath the other woman's and beaming from ear to ear.

'Thank-you…' She could only think to say, and Fareeha's hands were combing her hair, as they seemed to enjoy doing.

'My first positive experience with such a thing. Figures it would be a woman who shows me how pleasing the male genitalia can be.'

'I did well, then?' Angela honestly thought she had flopped, because she herself could barely contain her own arousal, and she struggled to enact the proper motions.

'You did.' She paused, massaging Angela's head so lovingly. 'I think I prefer to play the role, however.'

'Agreed. Maybe every so often, for there is something to be said about the vision of your body taking me in such a way, but…I don't know, I felt rather strange.'

'Heh. So did I. but I _do_ know what you're saying.'

Angela sucked in her lip, eyes glimmering.

'You mean, the way my "pussy" takes your thick, firm "cock".'

'Jesus, Angela…!' Fareeha gasped.

'Hahahah! Oh, my gosh! I feel positively lewd!'

'Hahah! Don't make fun of me again!'

'I'm sorry! It was just too unexpected!'

They laughed, calmed, and then laughed more, embracing one another even tighter.

A heavy silence fell over the room then, and Fareeha breathed out slowly, preparing a question Angela was already acutely aware she wanted to ask. It was only fair. She wouldn't lie to her anymore. Not about this. Not now that they had become so undeniably close.

'What did the tests say?' She asked simply, with no context, and Angela knew precisely what she was referring to. She held the woman's hand against her body, closing her eyes and trying to become smaller in her knight's grasp.

'They aren't conclusive.'

'But you have a number.'

'…I do.'

'What is it?'

'Do you truly want to know?'

'Of course.'

She was staying much calmer than Angela gave her credit for when playing out the scenario in her head. Still, it made the interaction no less difficult.

'Five years, perhaps.'

'Five…years…'

'Yes. Assuming I don't concoct a countermeasure.'

Fareeha leaned on her arm, petting Angela's and exhaling shakily, perhaps hardly holding her panic in.

'Then you best get to work.'

'When I have time, certainly.'

'Every day for at least a half hour.'

'Fareeha…'

'Every single day. Promise me. You have to live. We just…found one another.'

The crack in her voice shattered Angela's heart, and she gripped her lady so hard she thought it must hurt her, but Fareeha's didn't even flinch. She held Angela back, and somehow _that's_ what got her. She whimpered silently, only the Egyptian's gentle hand wiping the tears forming.

'I promise…'

For the second time in her life, Angela would pour her soul into a selfish wish, because she, too, couldn't imagine any plain of existence without Fareeha Amari by her side. This woman she could laugh with, cry with, and love with every ounce of her being. Her partner. Her knight. Her soulmate. Her hero.

'I promise.' Angela repeated.


	69. LXIX: Tracer

Tracer

'Are you ready, Lena?' Genji spread his feet apart, crouching low and adjusting his stance to prepare for the training session. His blade was made of a soft, foam-like material that would leave marks on whomever it attacked directly.

'Yeah, Luv. Bring it.' Tracer spun her training guns, the projectiles they shot capable of providing a similar indicator of contact.

"Alright, you guys! Gonna hit you with one of my newer tracks about to slam the charts! You good?" Lucio spoke over the intercom from the command room outside of the multiple training facilities.

'Don't make it too wicked, Lucio. You know I get way strong when I'm feeling a beat!' Lena laughed, snapping her headband that held her hair back. She was in her workout gear, a small yellow top and even smaller shorts making the needed maneuverability against a monster like Genji possible.

'By all means, give her every advantage she may need.' The cybernetic ninja insisted, and Lena could only laugh.

Genji was the single individual in all of Overwatch capable of even hoping to keep up with Tracer when it came to pure speed. Thus, she had sought out the man and proposed a training session in preparation for the all-important mission that was in its final stages of planning. It was a good excuse to really go all out anyway, because Amelie's insistence on keeping Lena at arm's length was really beginning to get to her, and she couldn't precisely pinpoint exactly why it bothered her so considering they were certainly never going to be anything more than friends from now on.

Still, after their first night back at Overwatch Gibraltar, Amelie had requested her own room, being granted the luxury of the lowest type of grunt's quarters and taking it without question, denying Lena's offer of remaining in her place where there was much more space and opportunities to truly relax. Jack permitted it only if she accepted the terms of being locked in unless an escort was provided at all times.

Amelie had, to Lena's (and maybe even Jack's) complete surprise, accepted the conditions.

Since then, although Lena made vague attempts to converse with and draw out the other woman to even spend a little time together, she always refused, and the anxiety concerning their relationship grew to the point that Lena had even asked Emily about it, her girlfriend acting strangely elusive about giving any concrete advise. Thus, it was a rough couple of days, with Angela providing small updates about Widow's mental state, but little more than she was willing to undergo surgery again within the next twenty-four hours or so.

Lena wasn't a complete idiot though, and she could make some educated guesses regarding Amelie's withdrawal. The primary reason likely was that she didn't want Lena to do anything stupid if the two of them remained alone together too much. It was hard to admit, but Lena somewhat saw her point, if this was the case. Her weakness in the face of such things couldn't be trusted, and therefore, Lena had settled into the fact her and Widow's relationship would never be the same, and it irked her enough to drag Genji to the training centre in order for her to really let off some pent-up steam.

"Okay! Show me your moves! Lucy-oooooo!"

Lucio cranked up his music, and a buzzer sounded, the countdown projected alongside the back wall of the large arena. Whoever got the most hits in won. The more fatal the target, the more points awarded. It was a simple enough session, but the intense track hammering out a huge bass at regular intervals made the event more theatrical, and Lena caught a glimpse of multiple Overwatch agents gathering about outside the glass viewing centre to witness two Grandmasters going all out.

'Okay. Let's do this…' She muttered, and burst from position, moving in close and firing off a few test rounds to get a feel for Genji's mood. He deflected the bullets with frightening ease, and dashed immediately thereafter, tossing projectiles as he did so and slashing with his sword almost simultaneously.

So, that's how it was. Genji always was a show off. He wanted to prove his abilities to the onlookers, who were only growing now. Fine. Lena could play that game.

She recalled and then blinked twice, circling around Genji and catching his back, unloading multiple rounds before she was forced to "reload", peppering Genji a few more times to provoke further movement. He was cautious, however, and wouldn't bite, closing in on Tracer and forcing her into evasion so as to not get slashed by his ridiculously fast swordsmanship.

'Jesus…' Tracer cursed, realizing how incredible her comrades were all over again. Widow had been impressive in her own way, but this –

'Hmph.' Genji slid across the floor, turning his head slightly with a trail of green following his eyes. 'You hesitated. I draw first blood.'

Lena grimaced, seeing the blotch of dye on her arm. Damn it. She couldn't think about her. It dulled her senses and made her sloppy.

'I thought there might be a reason for this sudden engagement. My master may be better suited for cleansing the mind, Lena.'

Another beat dropped, and Lena shook her head, goosebumps pervading her skin.

'Nah, Luv. I'm good. Just getting warmed up is all.'

'Heh. To give up points so early in our confrontation? I somehow wonder about that.'

'Oh! Angela!' Lena pretended to wave at the crowd, and Genji only half-turned before she was on him, barely grazing his leg as he spun in the air evasively, landing on the side of the wall and slipping down slowly. 'Oi. Looks like I'm not the only one a touch distracted, huh?'

'I see…' The man hummed with his slightly robotic voice. 'No mercy, it is.'

'Ain't that it though, Luv? No Mercy is right.'

It was a low blow, but the battlefield rarely called for true chivalry, and Lena blew on her gun dramatically, egging the ninja on.

'Heh. Sorry.'

'Worry not. My victory is assured.'

The clash truly began then, and Lena went into a trance of movement, pushing and being pushed beyond her limit, breathing heavily as she dashed about, attempting to snag any openings and inflict more "damage" to Genji Shimada. Maybe pissing him off wasn't the greatest move, for he seemed more ferocious than Lena was used to, his strikes relentless and his ability to anticipate Lena's attacks uncanny. By the end, although it was somewhat close, Genji _did_ claim victory by a small margin, and Lena sighed, tossing her guns to the ground and listening to the buzzer bleed into her ears, a cheer exploding from where Lucio wrapped up his music. The spectacle of Overwatch's fastest agents going toe-to-toe was surely a sight, even if, deep down, Tracer knew she couldn't put everything she had into it because of a certain "spider".

'We will have a rematch when you have settled your soul.' Genji extended a hand, and Lena shook it, cracking her jaw around.

'Rubbish…'

'Do you need to talk?' He went on kindly.

'No thanks, Luv. Don't even know what'd I say, to be honest.'

'I see.'

They parted, and Lucio approached Lena, excitedly going on about how he was able to capture some footage of her and Genji sparing, asking if he could use it in an upcoming music video. Lena wasn't sure what she said. Maybe something about needing a shower, but before she knew it, she was wandering through Overwatch Gibraltar, sighing constantly and checking her phone over and over, her "gym" bag heavy over her shoulder. She dialed Emily and slinked onto one of the benches overlooking the incredible ocean, a pretty twilight on its final breaths and a cool breeze blowing through her sweat-filled hair.

"Heya, Luv!" Emily answered excitedly, and it instantly made everything just a little better.

'Hey!'

"Oh. Something happen?"

Damn, she was good.

'Just feelin' out of it.'

"Something to do with Amelie?"

Seriously. What the bloody hell?

'Sorta.'

"She giving you the cold shoulder still, huh?"

'Pretty much.'

"Well…it's a complicated relationship, innit? I mean, you had sex, and you told her you had a crush on her."

'Yeah. But she obviously didn't feel the same way. Thought it was pretty cut and dry.'

"…"

There it was. That silence again. She did it enough during the last conversation regarding Amelie. It wasn't like Emily. Did she…know something? But what?

'I just…feel bad, you know? She's sorta isolated here, and I was her only friend. It's just daft the way she's pushing me away suddenly.'

"…Maybe she's just being considerate."

'How do you mean?'

"Temptation and all that."

'Oi, Em. I ain't gonna do anything. That'd be just straight up cheatin'.'

"…I…"

'Huh?'

"Damn it, Lena. I wasn't talking about you."

'…What?' Lena scratched her head. She was always a little slow with this kind of stuff. Emily sighed heavily, waited a minute or two, and then finally made all her pauses clear.

" _She's_ the one feeling tempted, you idiot."

The words sunk into Lena's mind, and even then, the processing took some time. She blinked rapidly over and over again, shaking her head and squinting at the lowering sun. The truth hit her like a ton of bricks, and she almost fell off of the bench.

'What!?'

"Bloody hell…"

'You serious?'

"She didn't tell me directly, obviously, but it's definitely the impression I get. When she claimed she didn't love you I got the feeling she wasn't telling the truth. When we were all _making_ love, she muttered something in French, and I understood the gist of it."

'…What did she say?' Lena had trouble getting the question out.

Another pause. Was this bothering Emily? Of course, it was. Who was Lena kidding? Still, she had to know.

"Something about 'what could've been'. I think she called you her hero as well…"

'Whoa…' Lena rubbed her head almost angrily. She wasn't sure what to think now.

"Yeah. So, that's likely what's happening. She needs time to get over her emotions. She's a good girl. She knows we're together again, and she doesn't want to mess things up."

'Right…'

Another sigh, but this one almost seemed to shudder, and Lena forced herself to blink.

"I mean…unless you _want_ to be with her instead."

'No, Luv! That's not it at all!' Lena's knee jerked.

"…Yeah?"

'I swear.'

"Okay." A beat. "Thank God."

'But I should probably say something to her.'

"No. I don't think you should."

'Really?'

"She needs time and space to sort herself out. Now that you know the reason, maybe you should give her both, right?"

'True…'

"She'll come around when she can. Just be ready when she does. And act normal. You get weird with this sorta stuff sometimes."

'Hahah! I know.'

Lena remained attentive to the girl on the other line, refusing to humour the notions swarming her suddenly. Emily's voice hardened, and it's as if she could read Lena's emotions.

"Be careful, Lena. Keep me in the loop, okay?"

Lena hated that she knew exactly what Emily meant. She nodded, revolted by this side of her that was creeping about.

'Will do, Luv.'

"And seriously: unless you want us to have problems, give one another space. She's vulnerable right now, more than likely, and you and I both know you have a hard time leaving someone in such a state."

'Yeah. Can't argue with that…'

"Good. Focus on the mission coming up and then maybe come back to me for a bit?"

'Of course!'

"I miss you."

Lena's eyes watered for numerous reasons, and she nodded for longer than necessary.

'I miss you too, Em. I'll see you soon, okay?'

"Okay."

'I love you.'

"…I love you too, Lena. Very much."

Lena smiled, and she hung up, breathing out finally and leaning back on the bench, both arms stretched out wide behind her.

'What the bloody hell…?' She groaned, startled by her phone buzzing the moment she hung up. 'Oi! Popular today!'

It was a message from Angela, requesting Lena's presence in her lab. Good. A distraction was what she needed.

* * *

'Heya!' Lena waved passionately as she stepped into Angela's workspace. The woman was looking well enough, and that was a relief. She spun in her chair slowly, tapping at a few monitors before settling and crossing one pretty leg over the other, her skirt grossly sexy. Fareeha was a lucky lady.

'Have a seat, Lena.' She indicated another chair, glancing at the projected graphs and diagrams, capable of at least noticing that Amelie was the subject of interest, but not being able to tell much beyond that. Numbers, descriptions, and a whole lot of other things Lena couldn't understand remained.

'Oh, sure. Where's Fareeha at? Figured she'd be with you.'

'She's resting, I can only hope.' Angela sighed, shaking her head. 'She attempted to go to the gym this morning, the silly girl. She was only just released yesterday. Unbelievable…'

The words were almost harsh, but Lena noted the sparkle in Angela's eye; a light she never had before. It was dazzling, really. Pure. Perfect. Everything Lena wasn't sure she was even capable of. She didn't want to be envious, but an itch hit at her heart, and she subconsciously touched her chronal accelerator.

'Super dedicated, huh?'

'Indeed. To a fault, at times.'

'But you love her anyway.'

Angela's eyes fluttered, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

'…I do.' She said quietly, and there was not a hint of doubt in her voice. Another flurry of jealousy.

'Like, "you wanna marry her" love her, or "hey, I really like having you around" love her?'

Angela cocked her head, glaring a little.

'Hm. That saves me time.' She said suddenly. 'What happened? You're suddenly aware of Widowmaker's feelings for you?'

'W-what? Where'd that come from?'

'Come now, Lena. I performed a psyche test on you back in the day. I understand why you're asking these questions.'

It was a pain being surrounded by abnormally smart individuals at times. Lena could only breathe out slowly, choosing her words with care.

'Well, I don't know for sure, but Emily thinks so.'

'Oh? How well does Emily know Widowmaker?'

'Um…pretty well, all things considered.'

'Why did you make that face?'

'What face?'

'That one. What occurred between you three? Was there a disagreement during your stay in King's Row? A fight? I can imagine the complexities of that particular scenario, to be perfectly honest.'

'Um…Kinda the opposite?' Lena wasn't sure she should really dig into _that_ , but Angela might be able to help with her conundrum. Wait. There was an issue? No. She didn't want there to be one. But…

'I…I'm afraid I don't understand. They're friends?'

'Y-yeah.'

Angela waited, and then pressed a little further.

'Why did you hesitate? What are you not telling me?'

'Oi. It's a little embarrassing to say, you know?'

'I do not.' Angela really had no idea whatsoever. She was so brilliant in every way, but her lack of experience was truly showing now, and it was bloody adorable.

'Uh…Well, the three of us sorta…made love?'

The humming from the computers almost seemed to stop. Or maybe it was the blood pumping in Lena's ears. Too much time felt like it had passed before Angela flinched back, as if comedically delayed, and swallowed painfully.

'…Excuse me?'

'You know? A threesome! Heheh…heh…' Lena couldn't laugh it off as easily as she was hoping. Angela was shell-shocked, and perhaps rightly so.

'I…I don't even know where to begin.' The doctor covered her mouth in disbelief.

'Yeah. It sounds pretty messed up, but it was actually really great, and we all were kinda honest and it just sorta…happened. But now that Amelie might like me, everything's all screwed up.'

'Naturally.' Angela was utterly flustered. A rare sight. 'Y-you're much more adventurous than I could have ever predicted.'

'I got a lot of love to give?' Lena shrugged, knowing the act wasn't working.

'Surely you understood the compromising position Amelie was in; _is_ in. Her emotions are erratic at best, and she is suspect to making irrational decisions. True, she has shown considerable control as of late, but the risks…and the carelessness of the act…' Angela rubbed her eyes before going on. 'And what of Emily? She was fine with this?'

'Seemed to be. She and Amelie really hit it off, actually.'

Angela paused for even longer this time, her brow furrowing deeply. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

'I'm concerned, Lena.' She began, and Lena grinned awkwardly. 'You may have a troubling psychological issue; more so than I expected prior.'

'Huh?'

'Your brush with death.'

A chill ran Lena's spine, and her whole body clenched.

'It damaged you severely. No. "Damaged" is the incorrect word. Perhaps "tilted" would be better.'

'I'm not following.' Lena lied.

'You are. You're aware of what I'm speaking of. It's just the two of us, Lena. Please be honest, for once.'

'I'm always honest!'

'You are not.' Angela snapped. 'Who would believe that _the_ Tracer is Overwatch's most sensitive and terrified agent, hm? None save for myself and, perhaps, Emily. You hide behind a smile. You cower within your laughter. You live a lie that even you have begun to believe. However,' Angela's voice softened. 'I know what touching death can be like, and it twists a human's soul like nothing else. I heard Genji once ask you what it's like to change the past, or something of the like. Your response – in a rare display of honesty – was "sometimes it doesn't want to change".'

Lena sucked in her lips, suddenly wishing to be anywhere but here, where her demons were beginning to gather.

'Don't run away. You owe Amelie honesty. You owe Emily honesty. You owe _yourself_ honesty. Stop looking over the fence and commit, or you will surely end up alone; a fate perhaps worse than death itself. You cannot live every life, no matter how desperately you fancy the paths before you.'

'I'm with Emily now.' Lena tried, but it sounded lame even to her.

'You are. But you harbour _something_ for Amelie, and she is hurting because of it. You pulled her out of the depths of eternal despair. You saved her when nobody else could. You're her hero, just as Fareeha is mine.'

Lena grimaced.

'And to answer your previous question, my love is the type that makes me envision a life with her until the day I die. Yes. I would marry her without a second thought if that's what she desired. Can we say the same for your current relationship?'

It's as if Angela had slapped her clean across the face. Lena lowered her head, water filling her eyes and anger boiling in her stomach.

A soft touch pressed on Lena's back. A motherly, affectionate contact that made it harder not to cry.

'Your tendency to keep your emotions in check is doing this to you. One can only hold such things in before they break through. Stop torturing yourself, Lena. I am more than willing to provide you with the necessary tools and guidance should you desire them both.'

'That's…not me though.' Lena sobbed, denying the vulnerability.

'It is. And it's time you take responsibility for how big your heart is. Indeed, you have much love to give, but I do not believe you're being fair to the women in your life. I've spoken with Emily before, and she is quite observant. There is little doubt she sees your wavering despite having recommitted to her. As for Amelie, I cannot operate in the ideal setting without her mind being put to some form of ease. You must speak with her about all of this.'

Lena sucked in some air shakily.

'But Emily said not to.'

'And it is a wise recommendation, considering her suspicions, but Amelie is troubled by all of this, and it puts her life at more risk than I wish it to be. With such an important mission fast approaching, there is no time. You must have a word with that woman sooner rather than later if you truly care about her.'

Lena's heart gave a leap, and she was mortified.

'Is it possible…' She began, mouth suddenly dry and cheeks reddening with embarrassment at her own idiocy. 'To be in love with two people?'

It felt wrong to say immediately upon the words leaving her mouth, but Lena had to ask. It was the start of handling these bizarre notions.

'I don't think it's _impossible_.' Angela answered, surprisingly calm, as if expecting such an inquiry. 'But I _do_ believe it's terribly selfish to expect others to have similar desires. Jealousy is a devastating factor in any relationship. There is a reason polygamy is not a common practise. Your view on life is partially skewed due to your experience with death, and I am willing to help you balance yourself properly, if it is your wish.'

She didn't want to admit how right Angela was, but it all made too much sense to dismiss any of her doctoral evaluation. Lena had always felt a little off. Almost distant from everyday interactions. Why _was_ she okay with Emily and Amelie being so intimate? Why did the entire interaction feel so natural to her? If anything, she had never felt more comfortable. A casual observer. A non-committal relationship. A foil. Emily and Lena rarely fought, but Lena could remember one disagreement, in particular, that had stemmed from Lena's inability to be completely and utterly honest with the other woman. To Emily's credit, out of everyone in Lena's life, she let down her guard the most around the beautiful redhead…until recently. Why did Amelie have a similar effect? Perhaps even more?

Lena's head spun the more she delved, and she jumped out, as always, due to her fears of the answers formulating in her mind.

'I gotta go.' She stood up abruptly.

'To speak with Amelie?'

Lena sighed, not wishing to say anything nasty, for her mood was suddenly quite foul; mostly due to frustration with herself.

'To do _something_.' She said behind herself as she stepped out of Angela's lab, bursting into a sprint and blasting through the base until the tears instantly evaporated upon leaving her eyes.


	70. LXX: Pharah

Pharah

The official day of the final briefing before one of Overwatch's most pivotal missions was scheduled. Only one night remained before that fateful session, and Ana had made a proposal to both Fareeha and Angela. She wanted to have a special night out. Just the three of them. Despite Angela having Widow's operation during the day, Fareeha's lady had agreed quite adamantly, claiming she would be more than happy to attend. Although Fareeha worried Angela was pushing herself again, she couldn't deny that she desired the outing more than a little.

Fareeha lowered her weights slowly, performing a dead lift curl with sixty pounds on either side. Her muscles swelled satisfyingly, a large vein protruding through her bicep. Sweat streamed down her chin, pooling around her collar and cascading along her exposed abdominals. The gym was empty save for her. Late afternoon wasn't a popular time to exercise.

'Hah…' She breathed out, maintaining control, but feeling more fatigued than usual. Her body was still recovering, it seemed. Fareeha downed multiple gulps of water, looking up at one of the many monitors, the news playing but muted, loud rock booming over the speakers. She could make out the highlighted stories; omnic attacks on the rise, the government no longer capable of muffling the rising threat of another potential Omnic Crisis.

If only it were that simple. The Black Omnic Crisis. That's what Jack was calling the next war if Overwatch failed to stop Talon's mass production of the alien matter capable of mutating machines into feral, biogenetic beings. If only Fareeha could join the mission. She could help. She knew she was more than capable. More so than ever, really…!

Another set.

'Hgh…! Hah…! Hgh…! Hah…!'

Down. Control. The reps were pointless without the proper form. Fareeha monitored her inhales and exhales, wiping sweat from her sticky brow and staring in one of the multiple mirrors. A woman looked back. A woman she was beginning to understand better than before. A woman proud of who she was and who she was becoming. A woman who loved another woman.

She should've known. How couldn't she have seen the signs? She didn't hate men. Far from it. She got along with them better than her own sex, in most cases, really. She was "tough". Blunt. Liked to be rough. Wanted to fight. She was always a tomboy. Always "one of the guys". She fit right in with the Egyptian Army. With Helix. Until she was a woman again. Until "one of the guys" didn't want _her_ to be "one of the guys". Until he was taking off his pants. Until he was pushing himself at her mouth. Until she was practically ordered to "do her job" as a woman.

Another set.

'Hgh…! Hah…! Hgh…! Hah…!'

Down. Control. Don't get angry. Don't be ashamed. It was in the past. All of it. Angela was willing to look beyond it all. Why couldn't Fareeha?

She was bad at it. He had told her so. Too much teeth. Too hard. Too soft. Too slow. Too fast. Use your damn hand. Never mind. Just lay down. Too tight. Dry as a fucking dessert. Can't get in. There are always ways around that. There. Better. Done. It's not a bad day for you, right? They got pills for that anyway. Might want to clean that up. See you again? Goodnight.

Slam.

She increased the weight. Eighty on both sides. Her neck felt like it might explode. Why was she thinking about it again? Why now when she knew what real love was without a shadow of a doubt? Another set. Another. Another. Another.

'Agh…!' Fareeha dropped the weight, and it rolled into the wall, making a loud clanging sound.

Angela was so different. So, so different. Because of what they had done. That's why. She was recalling the other times in contrast to Angela taking her because of the recent event. Pushing into her. Filling her with warmth. It was another reality entirely. The difference of authentic feelings. The difference between following one's heart and following societal expectation.

She stared at herself on the mirror, her mascara running a little, and her feminine features prominent alongside her masculine ones. She liked being a girl. Few would surely believe her, but she earnestly didn't mind. Zarya proved just how comparable a woman could be to a man. Reinhardt acknowledged the woman's power. Fareeha didn't mind the handicap. It just pushed her harder. She liked her body. She preferred her softer features. Perhaps just as importantly, Angela found her attractive. She had worth. It was all too obvious now. It felt good. It felt right.

'Uh-oh. Is someone supposed to be here?' The music was cut, and Brigitte stood in a torn-up muscle shirt, her stomach revealed and her defined arms alluring in their own way.

'Heh. So long as I moderate myself, it's fine.'

The other girl stepped over to Fareeha's area, humming at the bar full of weights she had been using.

'Oh, yeah. You totally seem to be "taking it easy" here, missy.' She handed Fareeha her water, and Fareeha didn't waste time chugging nearly the rest of it.

'Good to see you, huh? Missed you.' She went on, nudging Fareeha's shoulder with a light punch.

'I'm glad to be back as well. It was…a close call.'

'You're telling me. Guess that's part of the job and all, but man, our track record is looking rough.'

'You're feeling better also?'

'Mostly. Still achy here and there, but I'm good to go, I think.'

'The mission tomorrow?'

'Yeah. Gotta support the big guy and all if we're forced to go in and damage control.'

'Right…' Fareeha scowled, and Brigitte could only laugh, playing with some of the loose strands of hair around her left ear.

'You're not coming.'

'I know that.' Fareeha snapped back.

'Angela would _never_ let you.'

'And that's fair.'

'But you're mad.'

'Of course, I am. I could help.'

'They're not going easy on this mission. We got enough people; don't worry.'

Fareeha's jaw tightened, and she sighed, sitting on one of the workout benches.

'That's…not what's bothering me completely.'

'Oh?'

Fareeha wasn't one to tell her thoughts and feelings to just anyone, but Brigitte was her closest friend aside from Angela, and bringing such a thing up with her girlfriend didn't seem like the best idea in the moment either. Not yet, anyway. Not again, since it felt like a sensitive subject for Angela.

She dabbed at her face once more, holding the towel under her nose.

'You wanna talk?' Brigitte offered considerately.

'I'm not sure…'

'If something's bothering you it's better to get it out, you know? Papa taught me that. He and my mom always hashed it out right then and there. It was a bit stressful, but at least there were no secrets.'

'I can see that.'

'Right? Papa's hilarious when he's mad…most of the time.'

Fareeha cracked her shoulder, watching Brigitte pick up some dumbbells and curling them easily. Her arms were muscular, yet not in a bad way. She was a little shorter than Fareeha, but was just as fit; perhaps a little bulkier. She was undeniably a cute girl and a great friend. Fareeha felt she could be trusted. She swallowed her hesitation, speaking her strange thoughts as best as she could.

'Have you…ever been with a man before?' She asked, and the words fumbled through her tongue.

Brigitte paused her workout, glancing over her tattooed shoulder at Fareeha.

'Huh. That kinda talk, is it?'

'I don't know. I'm just…agitated with myself and my past.'

'Well, yeah. You're a perfectionist in some ways, right?'

'I never thought of myself as one, but maybe.'

'When it comes to your career and your identity, I think you are.'

'You might be right.' Fareeha knew she was. Because of Ana, Fareeha held high expectations before herself. Measuring up to a legend. Surpassing that legend. Being a strong woman. She strived for all these things. The blemishes in her "relationships" of the past had always annoyed her, but being with Angela now made said festering irritations even worse.

'Anyway, I've had one or two guys back in the day. Nothing really serious. It was okay. Felt pretty good at the time, but the real emotional connection wasn't there, you know? With Reinhardt…I don't know, I just feel so close to him on a whole other level. I can be myself. Totally me. And he obviously accepts me warts and all. Most guys don't want girls like us, you know? _Most_. There are always exceptions, but then _I'm_ usually the one not into them. It's kind of a catch twenty-two.'

'So, you played a role for those men you were with?'

'A bit. Tried to be a little daintier and the like. Basically why it ended most of the time. Once I met Rein, I stopped seeing anybody altogether. I focused on getting stronger and…well, here I am.'

'If you were ever to be with Reinhardt, would those past relationships bother you?'

'Hahah!' Brigitte chuckled, reddening a bit. 'No. But I'm not a perfectionist. Plus, how many "conquests" do you think Rein has under his belt? I'd be a saint in comparison, I'm sure.'

'True…'

'Angela can't be any different though, right? I mean – '

'I am her one and only.'

'…Oh. Well, damn.' Brigitte put down the weights, cupping her chin. 'You serious? She's sort of next-level beautiful, isn't she?'

'My opinion's a little biased, but I would say so.'

'She is. Papa got in trouble for saying as much back in the day. Hahah!'

'Trust me, she's had more than enough opportunity, but she was stronger than me. She didn't need validation of that level as a woman. I was weak, and made idiotic choices as a result. Terrible experiences with men that couldn't care less about me as a person.'

'Easy, Fareeha. Seriously.' Brigitte grabbed at Fareeha's neck, massaging it roughly but affectionately. 'Are you actually beating yourself up over that? Stop being a dummy.'

'Pardon?' Fareeha blinked.

'Does Angela care?'

'To a degree, I think she does, but…'

'Well, that just shows she really likes you, but she isn't breaking things off or anything, right?'

'No…I don't think so.'

'You don't _think_ so? Um…she sort of gave a piece of herself to keep you around, as far as I know. I'd say she's a little more than into you. Stop overthinking it. Seriously. It's stupid. You're being stupid.'

'Harsh words.' Fareeha grinned wryly.

'Only real friends get harsh with the people they care about. You are the cutest couple I've seen in a long time. Just be happy you're together after everything you've been through. I've known Angela for a bit, and she's crazy about you, girl. Warts and all.' Brigitte winked, and Fareeha exhaled slowly, nodding alongside her friend's words.

'Thank-you…'

'That's what I'm here for. Support role and all that.'

'I needed to hear that kind of reaffirmation, I think. Especially from someone who I can relate to so easily.'

'Yup.' Brigitte punched Fareeha's shoulder. 'Us odd ducks gotta stick together.'

Fareeha returned the blow, smiling proudly.

'That being said,' She hummed mischievously. 'Did you just admit you have feelings for Reinhardt?'

Brigitte flinched back, eyes fluttering and glancing every which way.

'Whatever. I was trying to help out, so, yeah, maybe it slipped into the mix. I know it's messed up, but it's not like anything'll happen. I'm just gonna keep supporting him like I always do. I love the big oaf, okay? Stop looking at me like that!'

'Please. As if I can possibly judge. Despite the steps forward for relations like mine, it is far from perfectly normalized. However,' Fareeha thought about what her life would have been like if she hadn't asked Angela out for that drink. If she hadn't taken any risks for the relationship she valued so much she questioned every mistake in her past. The mere reflection made her shiver. 'I think you should say something. He isn't getting younger. And the battles to come will only push him further.'

'I-I know that…' Brigitte stammered. 'I just…don't know what to say. Plus, he's totally into you mom. You know that, right?'

'What!?' Fareeha did _not_ know that.

'Seriously? It's like a running gag. A little tough to watch, not gonna lie, but yeah.'

'My mother has never said anything like that to me.' Although Ana didn't talk much with Fareeha about her personal life to begin with. That was the problem.

'Yep. It's a thing. He knows nothing'll ever happen, but he compliments her every chance he gets.'

'Unbelievable.'

'Trust me. I know.'

Fareeha shook her head, irritated by her lack of knowledge surrounding her mother. Perhaps tonight she could change that ongoing trend of ignorance. With Angela as a foil, maybe Fareeha could finally get to know the woman she only knew as her mother; not Ana Amari of Overwatch.

'Anyway, all the more reason to maybe say something. He doesn't know you're an option.'

'And it might be better that way. What if I _do_ make some kind of awkward move and he's really not into it? That'd make work a tiny bit strained.'

'I could've made the same argument, but Angela was worth the risk.'

'Yeah, but it's not like you two knew one another for a long time beforehand, right?'

'…Fine.' Fareeha lifted her hands. 'Then always wonder if it could've been.'

'Oh. Come on. I didn't mean to piss you off.'

'I just don't know what to say to you.'

'Don't worry about me. I'm good.'

'But you love him…!'

'There're different kinds of love, Fareeha, you know? Maybe this is just how _I_ want to love the crazy guy.'

That stuck with Fareeha. Different kinds of love. She was right. Fareeha had no right to push Brigitte into something she wasn't comfortable with. Fine. She would leave it at that. She had a dinner to get ready for anyway. She needed a shower. She wanted to be ready to support Angela if she was fatigued from the hours of operation-time. Fareeha dabbed at her face with finality, putting on a loose t-shirt.

'Thanks for the talk, Brigitte.'

'Anytime. Are we okay?'

'Hm? Of course. Why wouldn't we be?'

'True. True.' She laughed. 'Wanna grab breakfast together tomorrow? Wouldn't mind hanging out one last time before the mission. Angela can come, obviously.'

'Sure. I'd like that. I'll be in touch.'

'Good luck tonight. Rein told me all about it. I'm glad you're getting some time with your mom.'

'Me, too.' Fareeha waved to her friend, relieved she was able to alleviate some of her frustrations before the more trying social interaction of the day. Brigitte still seemed to have a sense of longing about her, and Fareeha wondered if she was putting up a front. A talk for another day, she supposed.

* * *

Fareeha noticed Angela's shoes in the front hallway. They were tipped over, as if kicked off. Her lab coat was draped over a chair. A hair elastic rested on the table where some white flowers were continuing to wilt. The flowers Fareeha had brought to Angela during their first "fight". She was here. Likely passed out from exhaustion. Fareeha stealthily made it to their room and saw the woman of her dreams. She was sprawled across the bed, only a white button-up covering her body save for the way her bottom peeked out, a black pair of panties tight against her pretty butt.

Fareeha closed the door as quietly as she could, shifting the device to manual so it wouldn't "swoosh" too loudly. She then made her way to the washroom, her mind pulsating at the tantalizing memory of her girlfriend, and the immediate desire to make love to her beautiful form distracting as she stripped naked, trying not to allow her hand to linger between her legs in hunger.

She turned on the water, waited a second for the heat to arrive, and stepped in, pushing her hands through her hair and stretching her back, feeling it crack and her muscles still numb with adrenaline. Alone with her thoughts again, Fareeha was happy to note she wasn't nearly as bothered by her own negative emotions thanks to Brigitte. She thought, perhaps, her mistakes from the past relationally would always bother her, but she couldn't let them do more than that. She was young. She was naïve. Almost everyone did similarly foolish things when exploring their sexuality. What bothered Fareeha was, even at the time, she knew she was being weak. Why couldn't she have been like Angela? Pure until she met the one person she claimed to love above all else. It was so frustrating, and yet Brigitte's words returned, and Fareeha could breathe a little easier, rubbing the soap over her firm body and breathing shakily when her fingers subconsciously teased her hardened chest.

Was it normal to be so easily aroused? The other night lingered on Fareeha's mind, and she was desperate to be with Angela in any way sooner rather than later. She missed her. A day without her for the operation was one day too many. Sure, Fareeha had awoken at the crack of dawn to have a coffee with Angela before she ventured off to work a miracle, but that felt like ages ago now. She wanted her angel in her arms. More than ever. This love was boundless, it seemed. How could Brigitte settle for simply looking from afar? Fareeha thought she would have been okay with that, too, at one point. Oh, how wrong she was.

The water sprinkled over Fareeha's face, and she was inhaling deeply, hearing the faint sounds of someone coming into the bathroom and, not a second later, hands wrapping around her body. She knew the touch immediately. She recognized Angela's presence instantly. She held the other woman's grip with her own, turning to face her and pressing their naked bodies together. Fareeha kissed the top of Angela's head, wiping hair away from her face before kissing her mouth directly, the sound of her nose taking in air somehow exciting in its desperation.

Not a word was spoken verbally. Everything was said with their actions. Angela held Fareeha's face and pushed it into hers, moans flowing through her throat as she opened her mouth wide, their tongues full and moving against one another's.

Angela had missed Fareeha just as much. She was tired, but lonely. Scared she had lost her again somehow. Frightened her miracle was a dream. Holding fast to her knight, not ever wanting to let go.

The water streamed between their two bodies, and Fareeha lifted Angela with ease, pressing her back against the wall and sucking on her breasts, squeezing her ass roughly and embracing the way Angela grinded her body against her, her waist and hips rocking in methodic eagerness.

It felt like seconds later. Angela's body tightened, and she let out a satisfied groan, her eyes flickering in orgasmic release and her mouth agape with satisfaction. She kissed Fareeha again and again, trailing down her body until she was on her knees and between Fareeha's legs. Her tongue slipped in, and she looked up, water soaking her face and other fluids seeping down her chin. Fareeha cupped her own breasts and sighed, leaning against the wall and gasping in pleasure.

Fareeha soon was turning off the water and wrapping Angela in a towel before herself, still caressing the woman's back lovingly while they dried off just enough to not make it unreasonable to return to their room, Angela falling onto the bed again, her towel coming a little loose.

'That was…positively wonderful.' She said at last, the slightest hint of her accent so very appealing to Fareeha. 'Goodness I missed you.'

'We were thinking the same thing, it would seem. I barely resisted when I saw you on our bed in disarray.'

'Oh, you're more than welcome to act on such urges in the future.'

'I was sweaty…'

'You know I don't mind.'

'A fetish?'

'It could very well be.'

They both laughed, and Fareeha put on a tight pair of boyish panties, still drying her hair as she sat next to Angela.

'You still wish to tempt me with such charming mounds of flesh so close?' Angela stroked around the centre of Fareeha's left breast, and it stiffened instantly, embarrassing her.

'P-perhaps.'

'I do not mind. I'd be willing to participate in another session of lovemaking with you any moment of the week, Fareeha Amari.'

Fareeha giggled at this, but when Angela proceeded to keep teasing her body, she considered doing just that, and soon, that consideration manifested into action. There was something she had been meaning to try anyway, and she ripped the towel from under Angela, straddling atop of her and comedically yanking her freshly equipped underwear to her ankles, kicking the material away.

'Oh, my gosh!' Angela shrieked joyfully. 'I-I didn't suspect you would truly…!'

Fareeha angled her thigh against Angela's damp womanhood and rubbed it, the older girl gripping at her back and letting pieces of her voice slip through her laboured breaths.

'A-ah…! I'm still…sensitive…!'

'Me, too.' Fareeha smiled, and managed to shift her and her lady's position until Angela was almost sitting atop of her, their legs entangled and adjusted so that their groins were interconnected.

'Ms. Amari…!' Angela's eyes lit up. 'Where on earth did you learn…? Hah…O-oh…!'

It was electrifying. Somehow more intimate than even the "toy" Lena had given them. Fareeha's abs flexed as she rubbed against Angela, the lewd act difficult to perform, but possible thanks to how fit Fareeha was. She grit her teeth, the sensation of Angela's soft womanhood merging with her own extraordinary, both girls unable to restrain their pitched voices circulating through the room. Angela leaned back, supporting herself with her arms and elevating her hips, changing the rhythm and pushing them both into another realm of pleasure. Fareeha reacted in kind, and she tried to log the images flickering before her eyes safely away, this utter vulnerability so incredible and unique.

They switched positions again, Fareeha laying Angela on her back and moving up and down over her body, kissing her deeply and feeling her lady's form sway with her own. Why did this feel so different? Lena's "toy" should have been the closest the women could ever come to having conventional sexual relations, yet this was somehow better. Rawer. Realer. There was no filter. No matter how advanced technology was, Fareeha couldn't be completely connected to the phallic piece that extended from her body. But this? This was sex with Angela. This was how two women could engage in such a thing at the most intimate level.

Fareeha held Angela tightly as her breaths came out in rough gasps of rapture. Her lady practically did the same. They were one for a moment, and then parted as sweet sorrows demanded. Their hands remained interlocked, and Fareeha looked to her side, seeing the doctor's chest heaving laboriously.

'G-good lord…' She whispered. 'Simply…incredible…'

'Agreed.' Fareeha sucked in some air, her groin aching from the amount of times she reached her limit. 'I prefer that method…if I'm to be honest…'

'I felt so close to you.' Angela leaned on her hand, her tired eyes glowing regardless.

'I think that's why I prefer it. Lena's "toy" could be fun, on occasion, but I'd rather feel you without any sort of barrier.'

'Yes! That's it, isn't it?'

'Heh.' Fareeha reached to Angela's face, holding half of it in one hand and stroking her cheek with her thumb. 'Thank-you for being a part of my life, Angela.'

'Aw…' Angela giggled, but looked as though she might cry in another moment. 'You read _my_ mind?'

'I'm so glad I asked you to get that drink with me.'

' _I_ thank the stars you had the courage almost nightly.'

'I never want to leave your side.'

'Then don't.' Angela shuffled in close, the nakedness of her body flipping Fareeha's switch _again_. It almost made her laugh.

'I don't intend to.' She tried to say without giving away her thoughts. It was best to change the subject, for even Angela likely had her limit, and Fareeha was beginning to wonder if her drive was slightly abnormal. 'So, how did the operation go?'

'Ah. Yes. The reason for my fatigue. Now that my adrenaline is fading, I fear I may need another quick nap prior to joining your mother for dinner. You truly put me through the wringer, Ms. Amari.'

'I'd say you started it by ambushing me in the shower. I'm innocent.'

'True…until you proceeded to pleasure me another three to five times. I lost track, to be honest. It was a chain reaction at one point, I believe. Heheh!'

This wasn't helping Fareeha's attempt to cool her mind. Perhaps Angela could tell, for she adjusted their focus anew.

'I am happy to announce that I have tentatively reduced Widowmaker's risk to all personnel in Overwatch.'

Fareeha couldn't believe the words, staring with amazement at her girlfriend.

'…Really?'

'Indeed. I won't bore you with the details, but I untangled her brain to the point that, should she remain emotionally sound, all shall be well.' Angela paused, as if in contemplation. 'Ideally, I would love to claim I successfully reverted her back to Amelie Lacroix, before any of this, but that's simply an impossibility. She will never be the same. There will always be remnants of what Talon – of what Moira – did to that poor woman.'

'Still, surely she's thankful!'

'She is still asleep and recovering, but Lena is watching over her, so, I know she is in good care.'

'Tracer…' Fareeha thought of the famous girl. 'She seemed to be interested in Widow, didn't she?'

'She's been a naughty girl, I'll say that much.'

This was news to Fareeha, and Angela obviously could tell as much, sighing to the ceiling.

'Is everything alright?' Fareeha ventured to ask.

'…Yes. Mostly. As a doctor, I should not expound upon my patient's issues, but I will say that both Lena and Amelie need more than a few more sessions with me. Perhaps even a more qualified psychologist.'

'Whoa.' That was saying something.

'Indeed. I shall leave it at that. However,' Angela's face coloured a little, and she avoided Fareeha's eyes cutely as she fidgeted with the covers under them. 'If I suggested we engaged in a…a session of…o-of lovemaking with a third individual – perhaps Hana, for example – what would your reaction be?'

Fareeha physically recoiled. In the army, she had heard some of her male comrades expound upon such exploits, bragging about pleasuring two women at once or even closer individuals going on about how they shared a girl, but it had always rubbed Fareeha the wrong way, and even the simple idea of imagining Angela being touched by someone other than her ignited a fury she had to consciously subdue.

'Raging jealousy.' Fareeha answered simply, and Angela nodded, touching her arm softly.

'I feel the same, honestly. I suppose part of me can understand the allure, particularly later in a relationship, when a couple is feeling adventurous, but…certain circumstances do not dictate such an act being beneficial mentally.'

'Obviously.' Fareeha concurred. Never. She was too possessive. In the deep archives of her fantastical mind, perhaps she humoured a moment of intimacy between herself and Hana – or even Brigitte – but it was a shameful, uncontrolled notion, and she couldn't picture Angela being pleasured by anyone but her.

'Heh. Honest through and through.'

'I don't understand the desire. You're all I need.'

'Quite. But there _are_ different types of love, Fareeha, and we need to respect them.'

That again. It must be true. Thus, Fareeha touched her lady's hair, reveling in the silky locks that clipped through her fingers.

' _I_ only want you.'

'And you have me. Mind, body, and soul.'

* * *

Angela had snuck in a quick nap while Fareeha browsed the news on her phone next to her, thankful her lady was a deep sleeper and the light from her device didn't bother her. It was potentially a fairly poor decision to entertain herself in such a way, however, for omnic attacks were on the rise, and one news network, in particular, illustrated as much with a graph that outlined the most problematic areas. Talon's name was mentioned only in passing, its presence _still_ eluded by all the "official" outlets, and Fareeha's frustration grew, knowing the terrorist group was reveling in the growing chaos.

She tried not to dwell on the matter as Angela and her got ready to meet with her mother. Nothing could be done. At least she would be staying with her lady, ensuring her safety at base. Yes, she wished beyond belief to be part of such an important mission, but if she had to choose, Angela took precedence at this point, and thus, remaining at Overwatch Gibraltar was her fate.

'Should I get exceptionally dressed up or keep it rather casual? I'm struggling, Fareeha.' Angela pondered near their closet. They shared the space. It made Fareeha happier than it should have, she thought.

'I'm just wearing whatever.' Fareeha didn't want to sound bitter, but it was hard not to sometimes.

'Yes, but this is practically a meeting where I officially ask for Ana's blessing from here onward. I'd like to look nice.'

'She _gave_ you her "blessing" already, didn't she?'

'In a sense, I suppose, but I do suspect she understands our relationship a little better now.'

'How do you mean?' Fareeha was curious, her mouth twitching.

'W-well,' Angela stuttered, gripping at a pretty black dress of hers. 'The fact I wish to be with you for…for a very long time.'

Fareeha's heart flipped, but she couldn't help wanting to push a flustered Angela a little further.

'But how long is a long time?'

'Many, many years…'

'Three or four?'

'How dare you.' Angela turned, glaring and beginning her counterattack with vengeance. 'Let us put it this way, Ms. Amari: I told Lena I would marry you without hesitation at this point. Is it too soon? Of course. But I doubt my feelings will change until my final breath, and _that_ is a fact. Do not dispute a doctor's word.'

It was a fatal blow, and Fareeha kneeled before the queen of playful banter. She was put back in her place, and Fareeha could only ask for forgiveness.

'I-I see…' What could she say? Taking Angela as her bride? Well, the thought _had_ crossed her mind. Many times, to be truthful. There were complications that made Fareeha hesitate, but the necessary emotions were certainly present. Would she be the groom? Dressed in a suit? Playing the man's role? It seemed natural, but more of her than she thought would bucked at the image.

'We would both be brides…' Angela mumbled. 'You would look stunning in such a dress.'

How did she do it? How could she read Fareeha's mind so accurately at times? How could she say just the right thing to banish the lingering self-conscious doubts?

'W-well…there's no point talking about it now. As you said, it's a little early.'

'Quite. Yes, you are correct. I'm being rather ridiculous, aren't I?'

Fareeha took a gulp, her whole face aflame.

'Not…entirely.'

This seemed to make Angela smile, and the woman hummed for the rest of the time it took to dress, eventually deciding on a black tank-top and stylish, high-waisted jeans. Fareeha's dog-tag clinked on her collar, and it only made her want to hold Angela all over again.

'That's a nice look.' Fareeha complimented honestly.

'Isn't it? Inspired by a certain young woman I adore.'

'Hahah! I see!'

Fareeha herself went with black pants and a white shirt, throwing on a light, dark grey jacket in case the night cooled off (in which case, she would happily provide the warmth to her date). She then escorted Angela through Overwatch Gibraltar to the garage where Ana was already waiting, a small hood and more traditional, Egyptian garbs working to conceal much of her.

'Ladies.' She greeted smugly.

'It is good to see you, Ana. We've both been so busy as of late!' Angela was the perfect lady, and Fareeha's chest swelled with pride.

'Good evening, Mother.' Fareeha smiled a little, feeling shy as well, but muffling her developing notions of resentment and reminding herself that she was fortunate to have her mother around at all. This was no time to be childish. She had forgiven Ana. She wasn't a little girl anymore. Act the woman worthy of Angela Ziegler.

'Thanks for making time to join me for dinner. I have reservations at Restaurante Nunos Italiano. Shall we?'

'Indeed!'

Fareeha ended up driving to the place, the G.P.S. built into the car easily getting her to the rather expensive-looking restaurant. It was certainly fine-dining, and everything shone with brilliance, a pallet of golds and whites greeting the eye for as far as one could see. The trio were seated in a space reserved for V.I.P.s, and Fareeha felt a little underdressed, catching Angela's eyes and sharing a mutual giggle at their choice in outfits.

'I've been here once before. Their food is quite delicious.' Ana tucked herself into her seat, flipping through the elaborate menu.

'As have I. I recommend the gnocchi, Fareeha.'

'Good choice.' Ana affirmed.

Fareeha nodded, glancing through the food options but not feeling terribly hungry. Her stomach was in knots. This was her first intimate outing with her mother since their reconciliation and, despite being close until her "death", it just felt strained. An impenetrable wall had been erected, and the woman who had happily involved Fareeha in various forms of training as a little girl was isolating herself emotionally. Perhaps she always had, but Fareeha could only truly notice now that she was an adult and more competent with such things.

The waiter (a charming man who wasted little time "flirting" with all three women on various levels), took the drink orders soon thereafter, claiming he would be back as soon as possible. He was ruggedly handsome; similarly to Josiah. The type Fareeha found attractive. She noted his appeal, but that was all there was too it. She looked to Angela and knew the woman was all she could ever want.

'Hi.' Angela beamed back, and it was enough to make Fareeha blush in front of her mother.

'I'd like to begin this meal with a small toast.' Ana lifted her glass, Angela and Fareeha soon following her example. 'To Dr. Angela Ziegler for saving my daughter from the jaws of death. Words will never be capable of expressing my gratitude, but I will try until my final days.'

'Oh, Ana…' Angela clinked her glass against the others.

'It's true. How can I ever thank you enough?' Fareeha grinned.

'Simple. You don't leave my side, my knight.' Angela answered without a hint of reservation, and Fareeha was burning again, her mother chuckling.

'Knight, huh? That's cute. She _does_ play that role pretty well, doesn't she?'

'Perfectly.' Angela concluded.

'Lots of talk around the base regarding you two. If it's not about Widowmaker or that Hana Song girl, it's about the seemingly untouchable Angela Ziegler finally finding love in another woman. I've never seen so many jealous males in my life.'

'Surely you exaggerate.' Angela laughed it off.

'I wish I was. It's almost comical.'

'Your daughter is a constant gift in my life, Ana.' Angela started, and Fareeha diverted her eyes in embarrassment. 'Not a second goes by that I don't thank whatever force led us together. In a way, I suppose I am partially thanking you for somewhat raising her to be the woman she is today. I love her with all my heart. And I promise you I will take care of her to the best of my abilities.'

Ana laughed at this.

'Well, when one of the best doctors in the world tells a mother that, what's she to say? I guess my little girl is in good hands, isn't she?'

Fareeha almost refuted the classification of her person, but she bit her comment down, aware she was being insecure at best.

'What about you, Fareeha?' Ana turned to her daughter, and Fareeha straightened up, meeting her mother's eye and softening at the sight of her aged face.

The drinks were delivered before Fareeha could answer, and when all three women were finished ordering, Fareeha didn't wait to be asked again.

'I've been with a few men before meeting Angela,' She stated painfully. 'And I can honestly say every single one of them pale in comparison to this woman I have been blessed to be so close to. She is the light in my life I didn't think I needed, and she has shown me what true love is.'

Angela's eyes began filling with a slight touch of water, but she didn't look away from Fareeha's intense gaze as she went on.

'She accepts all of me. Every facet of my being. She craves knowledge about _me_ , and I've never felt closer to another human being. I will protect her until I can do so no more. I will protect her smile and her dreams. I will help bring about both. As part of the proud Amari name, I will never stop loving her.'

Angela mouthed the words "thank-you", and Fareeha nodded.

'My.' Ana chuckled. 'As if there was any doubt before, but you two have something very special. Something I don't see too often.' She took a drink of her expensive wine. 'It's almost funny, thinking back, because I remember quite clearly, for some reason, you telling me how pretty you thought Angela was when you first met her.'

Fareeha flinched back, her pulse skipping.

'Really?'

'Yes. That memory always stuck with me. Maybe because you were never one to care about aesthetics. So, when my tomboy of a daughter expressed her fascination with a certain prodigy's beauty, a mother took note. Now, here we sit, the two of you more in love than any couple I know of. Kind of poetic, isn't it?'

'Very…' Angela uttered quietly, her cheeks pink.

'I'm happy for you both. Really. Took me by surprise, but when I look at you girls, a parent can't help but be content. My daughter is happy. My friend is smiling more honestly than I can ever recall. This is good. And I can go on this next mission without regrets.'

Fareeha's throat tightened at the comment, and the food was brought a second later, the glorious aroma of the high-class meal almost distracting.

'You better be careful.' She said seriously, watching as Ana snickered to herself annoyingly.

'It's a doozy, let me tell you. I'm not in the front lines, but if this thing is a nest for black omnics, like we're suspecting it might be, even incomplete ones are going to be troublesome. This mission is officially being classified as a class SSS. Only the best of the best is allowed to participate. _That's_ how cautious Jack and Winston are being.'

'If this facility is as important to Talon's plans as Moira and Sombra have revealed then, indeed, the defenses will surely be extreme. Fareeha and I will be attending the briefing, at the very least.' Angela concurred.

'I don't think that's necessary…' Ana stopped herself, shaking her head suddenly. 'That is, if you so wish to, then by all means.'

Fareeha blinked, and she controlled her emotions. It was such a minor change in attitude, yet it meant the world to her. Ana acknowledged her as a valued member of Overwatch. Ana supported her relationship. Ana had changed. They were having dinner together, for goodness sake.

'Thank-you, Mother…' Fareeha said while she could, her voice trembling.

Mercifully, neither woman called her out on the momentary lapse in stabilization.

'You're welcome, Fareeha.' A beat, where so many things were said without needing to be verbalized. 'Now, eat up before it gets cold. We can deal with the nitty gritty of the mission tomorrow. Tonight, let us enjoy one another's fellowship and the time we have together while it's here!'

'I'll raise my glass to that!' Angela giggled, and Fareeha smiled at her and then her mother before enjoying one of the best meals of her life.


	71. LXXI: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

Her lips were an inch from her face. Her eyes wide and dark. They both breathed heavily, arms wrestling with one another. Widow gained control first, exhaling deeply until she had no air left.

'So, what are you going to do, little girl?'

* * *

It was supposed to work against the pain, but her isolation was only bringing more agony. It wasn't meant to be this way. She wasn't capable of such feelings. Widow was almost better off caring not. The tiny room and seldom ventures out of it were suffocating. The warmth, comfort, and belonging she experienced when beside Lena…she didn't want to dwell on it, but that's all she could do. She would have to leave Overwatch completely to be free of her. That was the plan when this was all over. Until then, was she meant to suffer?

She had finally admitted it to herself. To the vacant space in the girl's living quarters. Love. A new form of it. She had loved Gerard. But _that_ love was a very different iteration of the emotion. This was all new to Widow; to Amelie. Every effort against the growing notion only urged it forward. Every attempt at murdering the swelling in her heart resulted in further expansion.

It was killing her slowly, and Widow didn't know what to do anymore.

She owed Overwatch her abilities. She promised to help take down Talon. But if Angela couldn't help her, what then? Widow didn't trust herself. She didn't believe she could resist the primal urges festering in her soul. Lena was the closest, and thus, the most likely to be at the receiving end of any emotional outburst. Widow felt like a babe. A child capable of restricting their emotions around strangers, but the moment they returned to mother – to that ultimate source of safety – she would lash out, unloading all her emotions and desires in a temper tantrum. Therefore, hiding from the girl was best. Losing her sanity in isolation until Angela made one final attempt to fix her seemed to make sense.

Until it didn't.

Widow pushed her face into her pillow and grunted, scratching at the sheets and grabbing at her shoulders in frustration. One moment she was furious at herself. At Lena. The other second she gripped between her legs, pushing her fingers within her body deeply and imagining Lena pounding her with the skill she had displayed nights prior. Then she was screaming at her own foolishness. Finally, she would cry, wishing it would all end swiftly and wondering why she even bothered anymore.

That's usually when Athena (constantly monitoring the room and Widow's mental status) would speak over the intercom, resulting in _someone_ checking in on Overwatch's most troublesome member.

Jack Morrison. Sad boy.

'You good? Got a ring from Athena.'

'I'm fine.'

'You don't look fine.'

'Then I'm not.'

'Angela's got you booked soon. Should all be over one way or another within a day or two.'

'So be it.'

'…Can I ask you something?'

'You can. But I may not answer.'

'It's about Gab – Reaper.'

'Heh. One of the few agents that made me feel normal in comparison.'

'…I see.'

'He's a lost cause.'

'Everyone thought you were, too.'

'They'd be right.'

'Not according to Lena.'

'…No. Not according to her…'

Winston. Monkey.

'Hmph. Pretty cramped in here, huh?'

'Not for me.'

'Your chip went off. Did you hurt yourself?'

'Only a little.'

'Oh! Let me get the first aid. My goodness! You need to be careful!'

'I didn't feel it. It's fine.'

'I don't believe that. Especially at this point. Here. Let me see.'

'…Tch!'

'Did you…try and tear off your tattoo?'

'I did not succeed.'

'Amelie…'

'Widowmaker.'

'No. Lena insists you be called Amelie.'

'She is a fool!'

'…She isn't. She's a precious member of Overwatch and one of my dearest friends.'

'Friends with a monkey? A fool it is.'

'You don't mean that. I know you don't.'

'I do.'

'Lena told me you're a kind and gentle soul at heart. Don't listen to Talon. Be your own person.'

'More evidence of her foolhardiness. I'm a killer. I always will be.'

'Heh. I doubt that.'

'How could you possibly say such a thing?'

'Well, as you said, I'm a monkey. An animal. I see your eyes, and they aren't eyes of a predator. Not now, anyway. They're the eyes of someone desperately wanting more.'

'…Just go.'

'Once I'm done with your wound.'

'…'

Ana Amari. Failure.

'You were once a legend, but what are you now? Just a shell of a woman.'

'I take it you don't want my autograph, then?'

'I don't want anything from you.'

'I'm the only one available. Tough.'

'Heh. On edge, are we?'

'Hardly.'

'I can tell.'

'Of course, you can.'

'Anxiety over your daughter's choices in life?'

'…I'm proud of her.'

'Are you?'

'I'm not here to discuss Fareeha.'

'In love with another woman? Shameful!'

'It's nothing to be embarrassed over.'

'Yet you are. Old ways die hard.'

'Talkative today, aren't you?'

'Deflecting. A coward's shield.'

'Then who is the coward, Amelie?'

'…Get out.'

'Not before I ensure you're safe.'

'Please. As if you care.'

'I don't, honestly, but Lena does, and she's my friend.'

'That girl again…'

'She's a part of your life now whether you like it or not.'

'I hate it.'

'I almost believe you.'

* * *

Finally, Lena herself was the one to check on Widow, although at this point, Athena hadn't summoned her. She came on her own; against Widow's wishes. Against her design. Against her sanity. However, Widow was intrigued, because she saw an expression on Lena she hadn't witnessed in quite some time.

Despair.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were skittish. Her stance was sloppy. She was hardly catching her breath. What on earth had happened to her?

'Amelie…!' She huffed, the door closing behind her.

'What is the meaning of this?' Widow snapped, her temple already pulsating painfully. This girl irked her so. This woman caused her nothing but anxiety. When would she get the hint?

Lena blinked, looked around, and then laughed at herself seemingly, scratching the back of her head and waving her hands as if she had just awoken from a dream.

'Oh! Um…I-I mean…I heard you've been kinda nasty to some of the others, so, I thought I'd check on you, you know? Doin' okay?'

'…Fine.' Widow uttered. 'My operation is soon. We shall see how I am truly after the procedure.'

'Right. Right. You nervous?'

'…A little.' Damn it. How did she draw out such honesty? Why was Widow being filled with relief suddenly? This girl wasn't abiding to her needs!

'Ange is worried, too. Told me…er…you're kinda stressed and stuff. I guess that's mostly why I'm here. Being by yourself can't be too fun, right? Want to hang at my place for a bit?'

'No.' Widow flinched, knowing that was the worst thing she could do now. She was _just_ beginning to distance herself from the girl, and now this? How infuriating. 'You may go now.' She insisted.

'You know how well telling me what to do works out. I can tell you're all kinds of messed up. Got some bags under your eyes. Not sleeping too good?'

'It's none of your business.'

Lena clapped her hands together, and it almost startled Widow the sound was so abrupt.

'Bloody hell it isn't. We're friends last time I checked, and…'

Widow grimaced, waiting for Lena to finish, but when she didn't, the lingering silence annoyed her even more.

'And what?'

'Jesus…' She cursed, pacing in the room. 'Just…I'm all messed up, too, you know?'

Pardon? This was new. Lena's voice lowered, and she was shaking her head in obvious confusion.

'How? Your life is near-perfect.'

'Hah! Right? I'm lucky to even _be_ alive and I still mess things up with this bloody brain of mine. All kinds of messed up.'

What was happening? Lena's tone was shaking. She sounded as though she was about to cry. Widow instantly cared more than she wished to, almost stepping toward the other woman.

'Can I ask you something?' Lena was smiling, but it was agonized, making the expression almost frightening.

'…What?'

'How long…' She trailed off, scrunching her face up. 'How long have you been lying to me?'

It was purposely vague, and this left too much to Widow's imagination. She huffed, repelling any semblance of closeness as she was training herself to do for her own safety with this terrible girl.

'I don't understand your question. Where is the context?'

Lena laughed again, but it was almost like a sob, and a second later, she grabbed at Widow's arm, holding it even when Widow attempted to rip free, pulling Lena in close instead.

'You know exactly what I'm talking about.' She muttered in a voice Widow didn't recognize. So, this is what Lena Oxton actually sounded like. The wonders never ceased.

'I don't. Now, leave me be.' Widow dislodged herself from Lena, but the girl blinked, grappling at her arms again and entangling them until they were face to face, barely an inch apart and breathing one another's air. Widow gained control first, exhaling deeply until she had no breath left.

'So, what are you going to do, little girl?' She dared her, knowing what Lena would desire this close. Would she cheat on Emily? Did Widow want her to? Was this even fair? What if Widow made the first move? What sort of woman would that make her?

'Tell you the truth.' Lena's lip quivered.

'And you think that will convince me to do the same?'

'I don't care.'

'Yes, you do.'

'Fine! I do! But whatever!'

Widow nearly smiled, and that frustrated her.

'Let go of me.'

'No. I'm never letting go of you.'

This struck Widow in the heart, and her expression faltered, collapsing within the need for composure.

'I…care about you, Amelie. You gotta know that. Whether we're lovers or whatever the hell this is doesn't matter right now. You need a friend. You need someone you can talk to. I'm right here. Stop pushing me away.'

Widow finally wretched her arms free, but she didn't step back. She simply lowered her head, staring at the ground and watching it blur inside her eyes.

'…But it hurts.' She admitted, and although it revolted her, she also felt a semblance of relief. Honesty. The first time in quite a while. Her last bout of earnest behaviour resulted in having a form of sex with this young woman before her. Sex she thought she would hate. Sex she never imagined would take place. Yet, it was sex she couldn't dismiss from her mind. Passion she had always longed for. A type of love she stretched her arm toward even now.

'What hurts, Luv?' Lena whimpered, as if she knew the answer.

'…You.' Widow whispered.

Silence beckoned, and neither girl knew how to proceed. Minutes passed, the quiet and emptiness of Widow's room deafening. How had it come to this? Where had Widow gone wrong? She hated Tracer, yet now that hate had transmogrified into something quite different. Something so similar yet not the same at all. An "emotion" Widow suspected she would never experience again for the rest of her pitiful life. This scene wasn't fair to either of them, but even Widow knew _something_ had to be done lest she truly lose her mind.

'…Because you care about me, too?' Lena finally responded, and Widow held her breath prior to answering.

'To put it simply? _Yes._ '

More relief. There. At least she said it. Perhaps now she could move on. But Widow knew that was a foolish notion. Her honesty only made for a more complex relationship.

'Was that so hard?' Lena giggled, and Widow stepped away, then, hugging her own arm.

'Very. You know precisely why.'

Lena closed the gap again, tugging at Widow's shirt, the intimacy of the act jarring.

'Yeah. I know. Because you lost everything you loved already. But I ain't going anywhere. Not yet. Too much work to do. And I promised I wouldn't leave you.'

'Right…'

'But I gotta make something clear, okay?'

'Of course.' Widow's chest tightened.

'I'm with Emily now.'

'I know…'

'And I gotta stop trying to be in a bunch of places at once.'

'Indeed.'

'B-but it's hard…'

'Is it?'

'Because…' Her voice cracked, and this vulnerable, broken version of Lena made Widow excessively protective. 'Because honestly? I just…care about you both so bloody much. And it ain't fair. And I'm stupid for feeling that way. And I'm selfish. And pretty much trash. And I gotta get some help. And…'

Something snapped in Widow, then. A loss of control. Widowmaker had taken over before, but this time, Amelie was in charge, and her emotional soul burst at the seams, grabbing Lena and gripping her head, pulling her in close and bringing her lips to Widow's own. She kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. Lovingly. And Lena kissed her back, for but a moment. For a blissful second of truth. Gerard's face passed through Widow's mind. Had they ever had a session like this? This contained, fiery longing that manifested in a blink of time?

'No…!' Lena pushed Widow away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Jesus…!'

'Stop saying such filth about the only woman in the world I could have ever developed feelings for, you foolish little girl!' Widow hissed, more pleased with Lena's refusal than upset. 'We both evidently need help, but that hardly makes us anything less than human! _You_ taught me that! You made me feel worthy of life again! You showed me the beauty this world still contains for a monster such as myself! You're _my_ hero, Lena Oxton! Never spout such idiocy denying that in my presence again!'

The door to the room slid open, and the two Overwatch agents assigned to guard duty stepped in, confusion painted over their visages.

'We're fine…' Lena waved them off. 'Just having an overdue row. At ease.'

The two men nodded, taking their leave slowly. The moment they were alone again, Lena slapped at her cheeks, wiping the slight tears forming under her eyes.

'Thanks, Luv. Really.'

'…It's the truth.' Widow uttered, embarrassed by her outburst.

'Means a lot to me.' She hesitated, but went on after collecting herself. 'I was talkin' to Ange and…she makes me feel crazy. Her and Fareeha are so committed to one another, and I just get thinkin', "why the hell can't I just be happy?", you know? It should be simple. I guess it's something to do with my meet and greet with Death. That's what Ange says. Starting to think she's on to something. Gotta have some good one on ones with her or whatever. Figure myself out a bit.'

'As do I…' Widow agreed. 'And we're all a touch insane, wouldn't you say?'

'Heh. Yeah. Perspective and stuff, innit?'

'Precisely.'

They smiled at one another. Something had shifted. Despite Widow's best efforts, she felt closer to Lena than ever, and although she recognized the issues with that, more of her was relieved. More of her found comfort in the presence of this kindred spirit. More of her was willing to venture down this painful path.

'Before we confront this…complexity between us, shall we commit to seeking psychological guidance?' Widow suggested, and Lena nodded vigorously.

'Yeah. That sounds good.'

'Until then…' Widow bit at her lip, but extended her hand shakily, taking the first step outside of her comfort zone. Outside the cage she entrapped herself in. 'Friends?'

'Friends, Luv. Absolutely.'

Widow chuckled.

'How positively tacky.' She blushed.

'Just the way you like it.' Lena laughed more, referring to Widow's taste in television, surely.

'Perhaps you're right.'

* * *

The intense confrontation with Lena weighed on Widow's mind. She slept surprisingly well, and the girl appeared at her front door to escort her to Dr. Ziegler's for the operation.

'Good morning, Luv.' She waved happily, her loose t-shirt caught by the wind and exposing her tiny midriff. Widow could see the chronal accelerator glowing behind the thin material, a dark sports bra hidden beneath as well. Her hair was a little messier than usual. Perhaps she hadn't been blessed with a good night's rest as well. Still, Widow was happy to see her, even if she had skipped her morning medication (as instructed by Angela) and old urges were itching.

'Good morning. You didn't have to come.'

'Well, yeah. But _someone_ had to escort you, so, I figured it might as well be me.'

'…Thanks.'

Truthfully, Widow only wanted Lena with her leading up to this frightening procedure. That said something to her. The fact her hand twitched so close to Lena's as they walked side by side to the medical ward said even more.

'You holding up okay?' Lena asked as they proceeded through the first hours of the day, Overwatch Gibraltar quiet save for the overnight staff just finishing up their duties.

'Relatively.' Widow answered almost meekly.

'Just like last time, I won't go too far, okay? Took a vacation day. Unless something _insane_ pops up, I'll be there when you wake up.'

' _If_ I wake up.' Widow finally admitted, and Lena punched her arm, causing her to gasp.

'Um, you're getting Angela Ziegler to help you out again. You'll be fine. She's the best. Seriously.'

And it was the truth, but Widow feared losing this life she was finally beginning to value again. Too much unfinished business. Too much potential for her future. She had time to make up for. Talon had gouged her previous self hollow, but because of this girl at her side, Widow could see the sun again and she basked in it. Her old dreamer of a personality was seeping through the cracks Lena had made in Widowmaker. Her hand was reaching for the audience once more, lights all around her and an applause cascading through her mind.

'I want to live…' Widow said aloud, and Lena clicked her tongue, grabbing at Widow's hands, holding them both up between their faces.

'You're gonna. Ange was sayin' it's best if her patient is in good health mentally going into an operation like this. Sounds to me like you got the right idea.'

'…Because of you.' Widow was feeling emotional, not wanting to let go of her lifeline. She was thankful for the confrontation the night before, but it also made for an overly complicated relationship. Still, it was surprisingly better than pushing Lena away. No. Widow wanted her here. Wanted her around all the time.

'Aw, shucks. I mean, I guess so, but you had to do some soul searching too and all, right?'

'Perhaps.'

Lena's face hardened, and she lifted her hand to touch Widow's cheek, cupping it tenderly, like a real lover would. Gerard had done such a thing at times, and it was one of the few acts of non-sexual intimacy that made Widow's knees weak. This was no different. Lena's hand was much smaller. But so warm. So honest. So true.

'Don't let any of the guys see you like this, Luv. They'd never leave you alone seeing such a freakin' adorable side of the big scary Widowmaker.'

Widow snickered.

'It would take a special individual to handle my emotional erraticism. That, and they would have to love the colour blue. Truly.'

'Hahah!' Lena guffawed, her voice like wind chimes and expression a star. 'Was that a joke?'

'It…wasn't meant to be.'

'Bloody hilarious!'

Widow blushed, but then began to giggle as well, and some of the overnight staff passing by were rightfully intrigued by the rare sight. Widow collected herself hastily in response, sucking in her lips self-consciously.

The walk was too short. Widow and Lena spotted Fareeha and Angela outside of the doctor's lab, and Lena quickly called out to them, waving happily and blinking over in excitement. Widow could hear the pleasantries exchanged enthusiastically, and she almost wanted to listen from afar for a little while longer, her nerves resisting the movement of time.

'Good morning, Amelie. You've only had some water, as instructed, correct?' Angela spoke calmly.

'Yes.' A beat. 'Thank-you for taking the time to attempt this again, Doctor.'

'Of course.' Angela smiled. 'I consider it a challenge. I will not allow Moira to successfully outdo me here.'

'Good luck.' Fareeha leaned in and kissed Angela on the cheek, causing her face to flush a bit, but she didn't seem too taken aback. Widow watched the exchange with a certain amount of intrigue, seeing the connection quite clearly even with filters in her vision.

'My thanks. I'll be in touch.'

'Good. _I'll_ be around.'

'You best be.'

'I love you two.' Lena was simply beaming, and Fareeha cleared her throat, dismissing herself curtly.

'I'll give you both a moment. There are some preliminary steps that require my attention before we begin anyway.' Angela offered. Lena and Widow agreed to the time given, and the doors leading to the genius doctor's lab closed behind her swiftly.

Lena swung her arms playfully at her side, shrugging and shaking her head in a funny manner.

'Any last words, Missy?' She teased, and Widow turned away. 'Sorry! Sorry! That was a terrible way of putting it!'

'No. It's fine.' Widow tried to laugh, but her throat was tight, and she attempted to swallow through it. 'Nothing more needs to be said, I suppose. If all goes well…then we will proceed from there.'

Was this…possibly her last chance?

'Wicked. Then we should totally get a crazy dessert or something when you recover. Sound good?'

Would she regret it if she said nothing?

'…So be it.'

What was the point?

'Heh. Nice. I'll be waiting. Don't take too long.'

Again, how did she even get to this moment?

'I have little control of that.'

It felt right. Now or never.

'True. True.'

Ready or not.

'Lena?'

Come what may.

'Yeah?'

A blink in her life. A total recall of her soul. She didn't understand it all, but the emotion had festered long enough. She deserved happiness, too.

'…I love you.'

* * *

'Your heart rate is almost normalized. Are you unwell?' Angela asked, multiple wires connected to Widow and a number of needles protruding out of her skin.

'It's nothing…' Widow claimed, recalling the way Lena had looked at her before she had cruelly retreated to this very lab after her incredible confession.

'Very well. Would you like to ask me anything before you go under?'

Widow shifted on the operating table, all the connections leading into various machines rubbing against one another.

'…Yes.'

'What is it, Amelie?'

A pause. A moment to calm her mind and heart.

'…How did you know?' Widow uttered quietly. 'How did you know you loved that other woman?'

'Fareeha?'

'Yes.'

Angela made a sound, as if recalling the exact memory in her past.

'It was somewhat simple, really.' She spoke dreamily. 'It was when I could no longer picture my life being fulfilling without her.'

Widow absorbed the words, allowing them to jumble in with the rest of her awakened notions she was finally accepting at last. She imagined the conclusion to Overwatch's battle. She painted her place in the world directly after. As Angela began putting her to sleep, Widow affirmed it with herself.

If she could…

…it wouldn't be the worst scenario possible to have Lena stay at her side.


	72. LXXII: Mercy

Mercy

'It's gonna be strange going on this kind of mission without you, Angela…' Jack was saying in the final moments before departure. Two of Overwatch's fastest and most advanced aircrafts were prepared to leave, their engines humming and seats filled with only the finest the organization had to offer. Jack was the last individual lingering, perhaps in one final attempt to see if Angela would push against his recommendation and join the fight anyway.

She wouldn't.

Perhaps in the past she may have considered it, being that dedicated to what she perceived as her calling in life, but now it was different. Now, she had a different perspective on everything thanks to the dark-skinned woman standing at attention next to her.

'Just get on yer way.' Torbjorn encouraged, coming to Angela's aid.

'We've already discussed how dangerous that could be given her ongoing recovery, Jack.' Winston seconded.

'I know that. It was just a passing comment.' Jack rolled his grey eyes. 'Be careful, in any case. Talon has already attacked this base once. I wouldn't put it past them to try again, even with the heightened security.'

'My thanks.' Angela nodded. 'Stay focussed. Your leadership during this mission could effect the entire world.' The doctor shrugged playfully. 'No pressure.'

'Heh. Right.' And the man known as Soldier 76 now was off to Rialto, where a hidden Talon base was busy experimenting on an alien substance that could threaten all living things on the planet. It wasn't until the aircrafts were completely out of sight that Angela exhaled, wishing she _could_ have joined the mission in good conscious.

'Well, then…' She murmured. 'I best check on Amelie. Lena claimed she was resting soundly, but having not been cleared for this mission certainly upset her, and I'd like to see her mental status for myself. Fareeha?'

'Of course.'

'I'll be in the watchtower.' Winston explained. 'I want to monitor the mission closely.'

'Holing up?' Angela giggled.

'Something like that. I'm just worried…'

'You prepared for this mission as carefully as possible, Winston. The briefing was perfect. I could see no flaws, and Jack was obviously content. They'll be fine. You practically sent every Grandmaster, after all.'

'I know. I know. But I'm a worrier.'

'Evidently. It's a good trait, overall.' Angela bid farewell to the other agents, feeling the comfortable shadow of Fareeha walking next to her. She felt excessively close to the woman ever since the night before's lovemaking and dinner with Ana. It was almost embarrassing. She had never _ever_ felt so exposed, and it was taking some getting used to. She loved being so intimate with Fareeha. _So_ intimate. But it was raising old red flags in her mind, and it was something of a battle of wills to push past the "fight or flight" concept infiltrating the doctor's senses regardless of everything she had been through for this young woman.

'How are _you_ doing, Fareeha? Seeing your mother and the rest off like that must have been hard as well.'

'Hm. It was. But I've come to terms with my place in this particular fight.' She put her arm around Angela, something she didn't do often but that the good doctor didn't mind. The difference in their height was drastically felt, and Angela was surprised by how easily she blushed still. 'We shall suffer together, I guess.'

'Indeed. It was much more difficult than I imagined. Knowing my friends are performing such a pivotal task without me? Troublesome. Alas, should this draw the battle with Talon closer to a conclusion, it shall be worth it. The quicker I can help those in desperate need around the world, the better.'

'I look forward to accompanying you on such endeavours.'

'Heh…' Angela smiled. It was a future she wanted to embrace. But it was a future that had also been horribly shortened. Certainly, she had been a "good girl", according to Fareeha, and was beginning to look into ways to potentially extend her life even with nearly cancerous nanomachines eating away at her innards while simultaneously keeping her alive. However, as suspected, it would take someone as skilled or perhaps even more gifted than Angela herself to perform the feat. For now, anyway. Angela wouldn't write off the possibility yet. She would surely be scolded if she did.

Still, Angela was beginning to come to the very real understanding that her years were terribly finite, and that meant less time helping others and…less time with this exceptional woman who wanted to stay by her side no matter what third world country she planned to assist.

'I would officially hire you as my bodyguard. You would be paid.'

Fareeha chuckled handsomely.

'No need. Haven't we discussed this already? I'll be fine.'

So selfless. So honest. Angela just couldn't get enough. She really couldn't.

Before she made a scene and began ravaging Fareeha right then and there, they fortunately made it to Widow's room; the tiny one she had requested likely due to her and Lena's complex relationship.

It only took a nod from Dr. Ziegler to have the two guards step aside, and Angela was ringing the doorbell, feeling the buzz within indicating a successful request. Angela waited for nearly ten seconds before ringing again, and finally, Widow's sultry voice answered drawlingly.

'…Yes?'

'It's me. I'd like to do a checkup, if you would be so kind.'

'…No, thank-you.'

Angela giggled.

'Oh, I wasn't asking. Athena?'

"Affirmative."

The door swooshed open, and Fareeha laughed hesitantly.

'You're a little frightening when you're mad, you know that?'

'Hm? I'm hardly angry.'

'Right…'

Angela hummed as she made her way through Widow's space, the woman still standing near the intercom and scowling at her unwanted guests.

'Come now; don't be so sour just because I refused to allow you on such a dangerous mission fresh out of your operation. You're still unstable, Amelie.' Angela took a seat at the dining room's table, the dreariness of the living space depressing enough. Widow had done nothing with it. Not terribly surprising, but it wasn't good for her psychological state either to be so isolated. 'Yes, I managed to reduce the information Talon wished to be subconsciously feeding your brain on a consistently dangerous basis, but those lethal urges won't disappear overnight. Entering such a dangerous stronghold with the potential of turning, even for a split second, put the mission at risk as well, and we simply couldn't allow that.'

Widow didn't respond, but appeared to subdue any anger toward Angela maturely, moving to the little couch that folded out into her bed as needed and sitting upon it elegantly. She was a refined woman, Angela noticed more than ever. It was interesting how such breeding didn't let go even after everything she had been through.

'…I'm irritated.' Widow admitted at last, sighing.

'That's completely understandable. If it helps, Fareeha and I are of the same mindset.'

'True.' Widow almost smiled. 'But you're together…'

'Yes. I have to agree with that important detail.'

Widow glanced at Fareeha, and Angela tried to read the look readily.

'She is a vault, Amelie. Anything you say will stay between the three of us. I trust this woman with every secret I've ever told her. She'll respect your privacy if you wish to discuss anything personal.'

That must've been it. Widow physically relaxed her shoulders, rolling her eyes as she did so.

'It is why I came.' Angela pushed encouragingly. 'I wanted to see how you were doing, mentally. If discussing a certain young lady is part of that equation, please, do elaborate. I may be able to provide some useful advice.'

Further hesitation, but Widow obviously needed to say _something,_ and Angela waited for her to start, watching as the woman exhaled deeply, giving the respectfully silent Fareeha one final look.

'I…told her I loved her…' Widow confessed slowly; quietly.

'Who, Amelie?' Angela questioned, perhaps cruelly, but necessarily. Honestly, she was shocked. They were at that point already? Widow's emotions had grown that fiercely? Lena was quite the individual, indeed.

'…Never mind.' She reverted, and Angela shook her head.

'It's healthy to voice such difficult thoughts, Amelie. Do go on.'

It was clear that was the last thing Widowmaker desired to do, but she visibly weighed her options, her almost robotic eyes flickering in their sockets inhumanely. A conclusion reached, Widow began speaking again.

'…Lena.'

'I see.' Angela let the affirmation linger almost dramatically.

'Was it…premature of me?' Widow asked, and it surprised Angela anew.

'That's not something I can competently make a statement on, but if it is how you feel, then it must be true.'

Widow somehow seemed smaller. Not as deadly. Not as frightening. The way her arms folded over herself was practically childlike. She was curled up into the corner of the couch. Physical rhetoric indicated severe discomfort emotionally. Her soft voice continued.

'I loved Gerard…but not like this. I love Lena. But…I do not wish to marry her. I don't even wish to…be with her in a relationship of that nature. Yet…y-yet…'

Angela noted the way Fareeha shifted ever so slightly. Seeing this killer so subdued. So tentative. So unsure. It would unsettle anyone. Even Angela was beyond intrigued by what Widowmaker was saying. Her voice was breaking. She was on the verge of tears.

'I can't imagine my life without her…as you said, Dr. Ziegler…'

It hit Angela in the stomach, then. It nearly knocked the air out of her. Complicated didn't begin to describe Lena and Amelie's relationship. One wanted a lover. The other simply wanted…a friend. No. Perhaps more than that. A sister? Not quite? Then what? Family? Something…completely different?

'Another form of love…' Fareeha uttered in a whisper.

Indeed. An excessively unique version of it. Poor Lena.

'We talked…for quite some time after my operation.' Widow continued. 'I'm drawn to her…And do enjoy…her touch.' She blushed. It was clear even in the badly lit space. 'But I was cruel to her. I confessed without fully understanding what this "love" was. I still don't comprehend it…'

'How did Lena take the conversation?'

'Well.' Widow half-smiled. 'Brilliantly, she would say…'

Angela grinned. Yes. Amelie clearly adored Lena. That little reference to the girl's common vocabulary, and the lingering gaze at memories of her; it was too obvious. But she didn't want to date her? Didn't want to be a couple? How curious.

'What did she say?'

'Heh. That we are never on the same page.' Widow shrugged. 'She's not wrong. Our timing is terrible, and we're both so unsure of what we want.'

'I see.' Angela repeated. 'It isn't surprising. The two of you have been through much. You, undeniably more so. Entering a relationship of any kind is something I wouldn't recommend for some time, to be perfectly honest. Having someone to lean on – to be utterly vulnerable with – that is essential for your recovery, and perhaps our rather "passionate" Lena misread your needs, and due to her attraction to you, misconstrued what would ultimately be the healthiest way of handling your person.'

Widow nodded hesitantly.

'But…we made love. And…I didn't dislike it.' She said shamefully, and Angela giggled a little out of nerves and also to lighten the potentially difficult turn of the discussion.

'You are human, Amelie. You were also a professional dancer, from what I understand? I imagine your emotions were a powerful tool before Talon skewered them. I could be quite off, but your need for physical and emotional attachment may have desired an outlet of some form. You were…to put it bluntly, somewhat pent up sexually? Would that be accurate?'

Widow didn't reply, but her answer was clear. She didn't disagree. Angela couldn't miss what she never had, but Amelie had been married. She was also, presumably, a passionate soul, meaning her longing for such connections was completely different from Angela's. It was reasonable to assume as much, anyway.

'How did the talk conclude prior to Lena departing?' Angela changed the subject slightly, and Widow sounded relieved.

'We…decided that we want to be together in some capacity, but not romantically.'

'Not always.' Angela raised a brow, and Widow turned away shyly.

'…Not always.'

'Hm. Complicated, nonetheless.'

'…Yes.'

'Friends with benefits?' Fareeha added calmly. 'I don't recommend it, personally. I've never heard of such relationships working out, in the end.'

'I understand coming to that conclusion, Fareeha, but I do not believe that is quite what they are striving toward, correct?'

'Lena mentioned it, but that form of classification negates my…emotional needs. It's more than that.'

'Then you do want to be with her as a lover.' Fareeha said with just a hint of frustration only Angela could note, which she had to nip immediately if Widow was to remain transparent.

'It is not a black or white matter, Fareeha, as ideal as that would be. Please allow me to have this discussion with my patient.'

'…Sorry.'

'You only want to help, and I appreciate it, but this is extremely complicated. I may need to call upon one of my colleagues who has her master's in psychology if you wish for a more thorough diagnosis, Amelie.' Angela touched Fareeha's hand, and the girl gave her a quick squeeze. Good. Fareeha wasn't so petty. Such a wonderful woman.

'No. I feel…comfortable with you, Dr. Ziegler. But that is all.'

'Understood.' Angela wasn't surprised. She and Lena were quite close, and thus, Widow had a connection with Angela in some capacity. Fair enough. 'The most important thing is that you are both talking openly with one another at last. So long as you continue to do that, all should be well.'

Widow's face changed then, her mouth trembling for a moment before she bit at it, eyes almost shimmering.

'…But what if I don't get the opportunity to speak with her again? What then…?'

Angela's eyes widened, and she stood up immediately, kneeling in front of Amelie and taking her cold, cold hands into her own. The woman pulled back, as if to withdraw, but she was shaking, and Angela could more than sympathize. Any mission Fareeha went on since she understood her feelings for the young woman filled her with dread. Dread she was forced to push to the side lest she lose all sanity remaining. That fear of losing someone so important…yes. Angela knew it severely well.

'Lena is one of Overwatch's best. You know this personally. It would take a special kind of enemy to bring her down.' Angela tried, but Widow remained panicked, snapping a painfully realistic response.

'Like an army of biologically enhanced, feral omnics?'

Angela almost recoiled, but she stayed, knowing Widow needed her support in this fragile moment.

'She is not alone. Many of Overwatch's finest are with her. My mother.' Fareeha spoke firmly. 'Reinhardt. Jack Morrison. Genji Shimada. Zenyatta. Jesse McCree. Brigitte. Dva and her mech. The majority of these same individuals are revered as heroes because of their superhuman abilities. They did the impossible before. They'll do it again. Have faith.'

'Indeed.' Angela agreed. 'Alongside a small army of our Master-class agents. I personally would only humour minor worry. Jack, Ana, and Winston pieced this mission together very carefully, and without Sombra to interfere, and having Moira also in holding, we have the upper hand this time.'

Finally, Widow relaxed some, her jaw loosening and hands pulling away from Angela's gently.

'…Very well.' She straightened, as if ashamed of her prior weakness. 'I shall await her return. That is all I can do, after all.'

'Excellent.' Angela returned to her seat, knowing Widow would prefer her to. She valued her space. She deserved that much. Angela decided to move past the subject of Lena for now, in any case. 'Otherwise, how are you feeling physically. Any concerns?'

'No. You are a gifted doctor. Even I can determine that much. There is slight congestion in my head, and a minor migraine, but that is to be expected, I imagine.'

'Certainly. Ensure you are taking the prescription assigned regularly to assist with those discomforts, and notify me immediately should you have any other issues. I attempted to be as non-invasive as possible, but I'm not always a miracle worker.'

'…Thanks.' Widow said in a small voice. It was almost cute. Lena didn't have a prayer. 'I have been wondering, however…' The woman proceeded to talk, which still surprised Angela. What a difference between how she acted when first brought to base. Lena had done well.

'Yes?'

'My heart…and eyes. Is there…any possibility they could be fixed as well?'

Ah. Yes. She was reaffirming her humanity, after all. Aesthetics naturally came into play, and being blue-skinned with somewhat frightening yellow irises was abnormal at best.

'I'll compensate you.' Widow added. '…Somehow.'

'Unnecessary.' Angela waved her off. 'I will conduct some tests when there is time. Perhaps today, even. Allow me to perform my other tasks and I shall be in touch.'

One of the most skilled assassins in the world couldn't hide her smile then. She turned her face as best she could, and Angela's motherly instincts made her want to give the woman a hug. She really had been through so much. The bitterness toward any pain Widow caused Fareeha seemed childish and trivial when faced with the innocent desire to be normal again after being dragged into hell.

'You're too kind…' Widow huffed.

'It is my calling, Amelie. I will save everyone within my reach.'

'Heh. The angel of Overwatch. I always thought it was too grand a claim. How wrong I was.'

'You flatter me. I'm only human.'

Widow nodded toward Fareeha, smirking.

'I think she would claim otherwise.'

And Fareeha simply cleared her throat.

* * *

'You are an amazing woman, Angela.' Fareeha said nearly abruptly, silence mostly following the two ladies as they left Widow's room. It caught Angela off guard, and she laughed nervously, shyly turning away a little bit. She was maintaining a professional attitude with Widow for quite some time, but now she could relax, and it was a sudden shift met with whiplash.

'M-my thanks. I was merely doing my job.'

'And it's always a spectacle. My pride swells to the point of stupidity I find your work so impressive.'

'Go on, Fareeha, you flattering warrior.'

'I could perpetually, I'm sure.'

Angela took the woman's hand, interlocking their fingers pleasingly. Fareeha was so strong. It was quite overwhelming at times.

'I feel sorry for Amelie, to be perfectly honest. She is suffering with her newfound emotions. Could you tell?'

'I could, and that's what unsettled me as well.'

'Indeed. Love is such a complex emotion. This most recent conversation only further distances it from my understanding.'

It was almost midafternoon. A stern collection of clouds had gathered overhead, blocking the sun and turning the world grey. Angela and Fareeha went inside her medical wing, entering through various doors and eventually making their way to the waiting room where multiple couches and homely decorations were setup to make the area more pleasing. Televisions were playing the news, the anchors rarely not having a fresh omnic outbreak to report that were progressively getting more worrisome as a whole.

'I hope they succeed…' Angela mentioned distantly.

'As do I.'

'It is going to be a long day or two.'

'Yes…'

'But it gives me time to look into Amelie's data and perform research on my own body's state of being.'

'Yes!' Fareeha brightened up, and Angela grinned.

'Also, I meant to ask, how was breakfast with Brigitte? I'm saddened I was quite busy this morning with final preparations needing my attention for the mission.'

'Oh. It was fun.' Fareeha followed Angela to her lab, making herself comfortable in a chair recently setup for this very sort of occasion. Angela wanted to laugh at herself, because she purposely refused to have more than one "comfortable" seat to avoid having too much company when she worked. Fareeha was a very special exception; one she never thought would exist.

'What did you talk about?' She pried, hoping she didn't sound too jealous, although she admittedly was.

'…O-oh. Um…many things. Our workout routines and…so forth.'

'Her crush on Reinhardt, perhaps?'

'…You know?'

'I had my guesses. It doesn't surprise me. I've been friends with the Lindholm family for quite some time, and she's looked at him with the sparkle of a young maiden in love for as long as I can remember.'

'Well, yes, then. A little bit of that. Hana was with us as well, and she was persistent in talking about that, and…'

'Us?'

'Y-yes.'

'How troublesome for you.'

'Not really, but she is quite…forward.'

'Ah.' Angela nodded knowingly, swiping through Widow's files simultaneously and projecting the necessary graphs before her. 'She poked at our sexual relations?'

'…A curious girl, that one.'

'Well, she's still young, and I can understand it being an intriguing subject matter for her.'

'I did not like the interrogation. Brigitte, thankfully, relieved the pressure for me.'

'Hana likely meant no harm.' Angela was confident in that.

'I agree. She even admitted to some…"deviant" endeavours of her own during her "experimental days", as she put them.'

'I see…' Angela blinked, a little unsure of how she felt about the information. 'What did you end up revealing?'

'Just…' Fareeha blushed. 'That you have a very beautiful body that… _ahem_ …excites me greatly.'

'Hahah!' Angela lost her focus, getting up from her chair and straddling atop Fareeha, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck and shifting on her legs suggestively. 'My dear Fareeha, how dare you say such things.'

'It was something of a brag, I'll admit, but I seemed to satisfy Hana for the moment, anyway.'

'Good girl.' Angela touched Fareeha's hair, letting the raven strands fall through her delicate fingers until she reached the woman's decorative beads, playing with them briefly before stroking her soft cheek and chin. She stared into Fareeha's dark eyes, seeing what was left of her future in this incredible woman's reflection.

'Ah…' Fareeha gasped, and it was terribly adorable.

'To be so handsome _and_ beautiful; how does such a thing feel?' Angela appraised, her nose nearly touching Fareeha's own.

'Likely similar to that of an angel blessed with unparalleled genius.' Was the competent rebuttal, and Angela bit at her lower lip hungrily. Her lab had cameras on constantly, but that almost didn't stop her from pinning Fareeha to the ground right then and there and giving herself over again and again.

It may have even happened. Angela was seriously considering the act of aggression.

But then the world shook like nothing before, and all power was cut, switching to emergency lighting in a terrifying case of déjà vu.

"Warning. All Overwatch agents report to – "

Athena's voice ceased altogether within a second of the announcement. Fareeha had her arm around Angela's waist, holding her in place as if expecting the tremor that followed, this one enough to shake the lab until multiple pieces of machinery came undone and were crashing onto the floor. An explosion in the distance followed. Then another. And another. And another.

'W-what on earth…?' Angela breathed shakily, her instincts screaming that this was no ordinary attack on their base.

'Talon, more than likely. This wasn't entirely unexpected, but the severity of the attempt seems more than Winston or Jack anticipated.' Fareeha grimaced, still crouched beside Angela.

'Indeed…'

A frightening silence, but then it sounded as if Athena was about to begin speaking again, the speakers giving off white noise prior to another deeper, dangerous, mechanical voice projecting itself in her stead.

"Attention, Overwatch." The being started. "The beginning of your end is here at last. You have two options: Surrender gracefully to your fate of destruction, or struggle and be wiped from this planet regardless."

'Who is that?' Angela asked in a hush.

"Hm. Angela Ziegler. Mercy. Grandmaster class. One of the most valued members of Overwatch. A pleasure to finally speak with you."

Angela's eyes widened, and Fareeha's grip on her shoulder tightened.

"You wish to know who I am?"

She covered her mouth, breathing heavily. Angela had been through enough battles to be capable of braving the storm that came with such fights, but something about all of this shook her to her core. There was danger in the air. Death. A snap of a finger meant certain doom. She had too much to live for now…

'We're not afraid of you.' Fareeha answered bravely, but it only seemed foolish.

"Fareeha Amari. Master class. A promising agent. A shame your true potential will never be realized."

'Is that a threat?'

"It's the natural course of your reality now, Ms. Amari."

'Try me.'

"Gladly. Will Dr. Ziegler be capable of 'reviving' you again when I'm done ripping you in half before her very eyes?"

'Fareeha…stop…' Angela urged, but Fareeha ignored her.

'You won't get the chance.'

"Heh. Take heed, Overwatch. Yes, I hear you, Winston. Calm yourself. You'll have your turn. Now, where was I? Yes. Take heed, Overwatch, for this foolish girl will be the first to die; die by the hands of…Nemesis."


	73. LXXIII: Tracer

Tracer

 _'Welp, this is where I go. Sorry, Luv. Wish you were coming with. I can move a lot easier knowing you got my back.'_

 _'…'_

 _'Come on. Don't be like that. We still got lots to figure out, right? I ain't going anywhere.'_

 _'…Be careful.'_

 _'I will! I'm always careful!'_

 _'Liar. Your movements are erratic.'_

 _'Makes me harder to hit, you know?'_

 _'You take unnecessary risks.'_

 _'But they get me sweet rewards!'_

 _'You…always play the hero.'_

 _'That's my job!'_

 _'Enough! Emily won't be the only one waiting for you this time. Remember that.'_

 _'R-right…'_

 _'I'm…sorry. I shouldn't have said such a thing before your mission.'_

 _'Stop apologizing. Really. It's all good, Luv. I just like knowing you care about me, you know? Kinda touch and go in the beginning.'_

 _'It still is…no thanks to me and these accursed emotions.'_

 _'Bah. It's actually really cute, if I'm gonna be honest.'_

 _'…Cute?'_

 _'Yeah.'_

 _'I hardly see myself as "cute".'_

 _'Right. Well, being told you're beautiful, elegant, or sexy all your life must be nice, too. Hell if I'd know though.'_

 _'…'_

 _'What? I didn't mean to tick you off.'_

 _'…You're…'_

 _'Annoying? Hahah!'_

 _'…No.'_

 _'Oh! Selfish? Heheh!'_

 _'Be quiet!'_

 _'Ah. I'm loud. True.'_

 _'You're…y-you're more than attractive, Lena! I won't say it again!'_

 _'O-oh. Ahah…Um. I-I mean…Emily says it here and there, but for you to…Wow. Uh…thanks? I guess I kinda get it if you're into young-looking boys, but…'_

 _'…Fool!'_

* * *

'Did you hear me, Lena?' Jack was addressing everyone, the aircraft completely full, with monitors and satellites projecting Rialto and their target sector.

'What's that, Luv? Sorry. Sorta dozed off there.'

He sighed, rightly irritated.

'Check your weapons. We're landing in an hour. If there are any issues with our equipment we need to take care of them now.'

'Right. Gotcha.' Lena handled her pulse pistols, their familiar weight somehow just a little more burdensome than she remembered. To say she had slight whiplash from her dealings with Amelie as of late would be an understatement, and her semi-strained conversation with Emily over the phone just before boarding the aircraft didn't help matters either. Her girlfriend could obviously tell something was slightly amiss, but she kindly didn't press for answers, and simply told Lena to do her best and come back alive.

Two women were on her mind. Now, more than ever, she cared for them both fiercely, wanting nothing but to be the best person she could and make them proud. Somehow, Amelie's admittance to loving her wasn't as daunting as Lena had thought it might be. Sure, initially, she was panicked, wondering how on earth she was supposed to move forward. But when Amelie awoke, and when she managed to explain she wasn't necessarily looking for a relationship of exclusivity, everything seemed to make a little more sense. It's almost as if Emily had read the future the way she proposed the three women's contact be made reasonable.

Truthfully, this only made the bizarre scenario a little less dramatic. Emily had made it clear she didn't want anything too intimate happening between Lena and Amelie if she wasn't present. During their big talk after Amelie's surgery, however, Amelie had confessed that _she_ didn't precisely want to commit to that idea, and although she liked Emily enough, she "loved" Lena, and foresaw struggling with "urges".

This obviously made Lena grin like an idiot, but it was a short-lived bliss considering the implications.

Lena really, really didn't want to sink as low as to become a cheater. She saw a life with Emily. A future. Maybe even a commitment. Yet, at the same time, she adored the idea of having an off and on again fling with the dangerous and rather mysterious "Widowmaker". Two sides of her persona vied for dominance, and after this mission, Lena knew she would have to decide, essentially, between Emily and Amelie. Two women with such similar names and even more similar places in the time traveler's heart.

'Seemed like a dream come true at one point…' Lena muttered, and Genji (who was seated somewhat close to her) perked up, speaking out to the mumbling girl.

'Are you unwell, Lena?'

'Nah, Luv. Just got a lot on the mind.'

'Unfortunate, considering how imperative we are to this mission.'

'I know. I know. Trying to get in the zone, believe me.'

'If we do not succeed, we put many more at risk by involving them.'

'I was there for the briefing.' Lena said with a little edge.

'But were you truly?'

Lena chuckled at that.

'Fair enough. Sorry.'

'An unnecessary apology. We are all burdened in one way or another.'

'Thanks, Genji.'

'My pleasure.' The cybernetic ninja appraised his weapons, storing the various knives, shuriken, and swords away safely.

'Do remember to narrow your focus, Genji.' Zenyatta's voice rang through the aircraft, his soothing recommendation lingering amongst those present. 'We fight for this planet's tranquility. We must cleanse our minds in collection and prepare for the task ahead.'

'Hahah! I live for this! There is not a fearful bone in my body!' Reinhardt guffawed.

'And to make up for his crazy antics, I'll be around to be everyone's shield.' Brigitte assured.

'Bah. That piddly thing? Get behind _my_ shield and none shall come to harm.'

'I got a defense matrix program in my mech, so, I can help too, everyone!' Hana pumped her fist.

'Hopefully it doesn't come down to that…' Ana's distorted tone behind her mask added somberly.

'Sound check. Lena? Genji? Do you copy?' Jack adjusted an earpiece, his gruff voice entering Lena's brain directly.

'Yeah, Luv. Loud and clear.'

'Indeed. Your support will be appreciated.'

'Good. Review the map Sombra provided. Its finer details have been omitted, but it's better than nothing.'

'I have more than studied it.' Genji responded calmly.

'I'll take another look.' Lena accessed the data, glancing over their point of entrance and the infiltration route meticulously organized for them both. Her eyes fell into a glaze, however, and she wished she was capable of "cleansing" her thoughts as Zenyatta had encouraged.

Amelie. Emily. What did the names do to her heart when she thought of them? Emily was stability. Amelie was adventure. She wanted them both. Simultaneously. At once. Selfishly. Arrogantly. Foolishly.

'I suspect we will encounter the most resistance here.' Genji snapped Lena back, and she slapped her cheeks, looking to where the cyborg pointed.

'Right. Lotsa space. Black omnics and maybe Talon will be guarding it heavily.'

'If one is required to stay back while the other finds the main lab and destroys it, I will shoulder that burden. My ability to evade and deflect attacks has more longevity than your blinks and recalls.'

'Deal. I just gotta wreck the joint when I find it, after all.'

'Even if there is opposition, our primary objective is to destroy the lab and get out. Once that's done, our status as a team determines how we handle the rest.' Jack reiterated.

Lena nodded slowly, deciding she had to ask one last question before she adjusted her attention to the task at hand.

'Everything good on the home front?'

'At base?' Jack chuckled. 'I haven't heard anything. Winston implemented enough enhancements to our security there that it would take an A.I. as powerful as Athena to decode the system. Sombra gave her seal of approval, and even made some minor tweaks under heavy surveillance. Talon will have a lot of trouble getting in, and would have to bring quite the squad to even put up a decent fight, leaving Rialto's facility completely vulnerable.'

'Right…' Lena wasn't convinced for some reason. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up on end. Perhaps Ana had a similar notion, for she spoke up soon thereafter.

'It wouldn't hurt to call, would it, Jack? We're about to head into a dark zone, and I would like to know my…that our team is safe.'

'Angela's wellbeing is paramount to Overwatch's stability as well.' Genji added, trying to sound nonchalant.

'Fine. I'll give Winston a ring.' Jack sighed.

'Tell Torbjorn to get working on my new armour while you're at it.' Reinhardt jested, laughing heartily.

'Papa said he had a bunch of new projects he's been mapping out. Really exciting stuff!'

'It's ringing.' Jack lifted a hand, and the aircraft fell silent. There was one too many tones for Lena's taste, but finally, someone picked up.

"Hello?"

It was Winston. At least…it sounded like him. Was he just napping? He seemed a touch off. Lena had an intimate connection with the monkey. His voice was the first she heard after being saved from her brush with death, after all. He was one of her closest comrades in Overwatch.

'Just checking in. We're almost in Rialto, so you won't hear from us for a bit.'

"How long until landing?"

Lena squinted. Was it just her? Did nobody else notice? Was she being paranoid?

'I'd say an hour or so.'

"Good luck."

'Everything alright?' Jack finally asked. He must've had an inkling as well. Good. He wasn't one of the leaders of Overwatch for nothing.

"Great! All's quiet around here."

A silence followed, and Jack turned to Ana, getting a nod from her. Lena wasn't sure what it meant, but then Jack expressed his own concerns to everyone on the ship with his next question.

'You want us to grab you some strawberry jam on the way back? We know how much you like eating that by the jar.'

Another minor pause, but "Winston's" answer came quickly enough thereafter.

"Don't you mean…peanut butter?"

'Yeah. That's what I mean.'

This time, Jack found Lena's eyes, and she instinctively shook her head. She wasn't convinced. Not in the slightest. Something seemed off. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but she would hate herself if she flippantly dismissed what her instincts were saying.

'I need to speak with Angela. Is she there?'

"I'll see if I can reach her. One moment."

The line went quiet, as if it was on hold, but then a loud shriek pierced the interior of the aircraft, and everyone covered their ears.

'Bloody hell…!' Lena cursed, the image of a purple skull flickering in her brain.

'What on earth was that!?' Reinhardt demanded to know.

'Line's dead.' Jack appeared to try and call again, but his frustrated grunt as he turned away from the communication device illustrated his failure to get through.

'Sombra. That was her symbol.' Ana made clear.

'It would appear she transmitted the signal through that sound and managed to cut the connection.' Zenyatta offered.

Jack sighed, looking at the group before him.

'Something's wrong. I don't think Sombra is behind it either. Talon made a move, and somehow, even with our preparations, they got in.'

'Then we gotta go back!' Lena yelled.

'We will. But first, we need to destroy this facility. Have faith in our agents.'

'Is that the right call, Jack?' Ana wondered.

'Don't know. But we're almost in Rialto now. The best thing to do is take care of this mission and haul ass to base immediately after.'

'Fought them off last time with all of us. Think it's wise to jus' let em' be?' McCree finally said something, and Jack shook his head.

'I don't. We'll use the emergency planes built into this craft to send some of you back. Genji and Lena, you both can't go, but I'm willing to take volunteers.'

'I'll go!' Hana raised her hand. 'I'll use my mech.'

'Can it make it there okay?' Jack raised a brow.

'Aw, yeah! Fully fueled and ready to launch!'

'I'll go, too. Ya'll don't need me on this one. Always thought the manpower here was a little overkill.' McCree was already standing and adjusting himself.

Lena bit at her lip. She wanted to help. She wanted to be there for Amelie if she needed her. The thought that she could be hurt burrowed into Lena's chest, and she touched her chronal accelerator, twisting her jaw.

'On your way, then. Be careful.' Jack decided quickly.

McCree and Hana unfastened themselves and descended into the loading bay of the aircraft, Hana's voice excitedly contrasting with the cowboy's unenthused muttering.

'The rest of you, prepare for descent!'

* * *

Lena was flying through the air, the wind cutting into her face. The world was rapidly approaching her, and she handled the straps to her chute, preparing to launch it and land atop the seemingly normal facility within Rialto. It was just another museum, apparently, but Overwatch knew better now, and Lena watched as the warm hues of the city became clearer.

It was time. The roof was discovered to be the least guarded space of the Talon research lab, and Sombra had revealed a blind spot, the cameras incapable of monitoring a very tiny space where Genji and Lena were about to make their entrance.

With a snap of her arm, Lena felt her parachute yank her upward temporarily, and she directed herself to the desired location, Genji a little later launching his chute, and thus, landing half a minute before her. With but a nod exchanged between the two agents, Lena stuck a pulse bomb in place and moved just far enough away to avoid the blast, the intensity of the explosive creating a hole with just the right amount of space for small-framed individuals like Lena and Genji to slip through.

'We're in…' Lena whispered, checking her miniature map displayed on her phone and zooming in to the upper levels.

"Good work. Proceed until you're forced to drop down onto the main floor and utilize Sombra's hacking device to bypass any restricted sectors. We're picking up multiple signs of life as well as omnic signals. Be careful."

'Hm.' Genji seemed to almost laugh.

'Let's go.' Lena encouraged, and they were blinking and dashing through the facility, both capable of moving with hardly a sound. Everything was proceeding smoothly thus far, but Lena wasn't going to relax just yet. The hardest part was to come, when there was no choice but to make their presence known and do what amounted to a near-kamikaze run in an attempt to completely demolish the research lab that was presumed to be conducting the most pivotal experiments in relation to the black omnics and the alien matter that contributed to their overwhelming strength.

It didn't take long. The building wasn't _that_ large. Lena tapped the point of entrance and nodded to Genji.

'At the access point.' Lena muttered.

"Okay. Not getting a clear reading of that area. Signal is being scrambled." Jack said with irritation. "Even your voice is off. Be cautious but efficient. Good luck."

'Ready, Luv?' Lena shrugged at Genji, and he made a sound of affirmation.

'Always.'

'Let's do this!' Lena emptied her mind of the girlish drama she had somehow gotten herself into and kicked through the ventilation door, dropping into a hallway and noting the pair of guards at both ends. They were regular grunts, and were dealt with as such, easily disabled and knocked unconscious before the first door was bypassed thanks to Sombra's hacking app installed into Lena's phone and Genji's cybernetic programming.

Unfortunately, an alarm began to sound the moment there was any sign of forced entry, the security proving much more sensitive than planned for.

'Bloody hell…' Lena rolled her eyes.

'Come!' Genji and Lena were on the move again, their destination not terribly far, but the next rooms they were being forced to pass through large and likely housing more than a few foes to contend with.

"…ultiple…nics…ck…erful…" Jack could barely be understood. They were getting too deep, with far too much interference present to maintain clear communication thanks to the slew of machinery working and demanding wireless signal strength.

'This was the room everyone said would be loaded, right?' Lena began the hack, watching as multiple purple skulls floated on her phone and periodically giggled. She thought of Sombra, then. She thought of the way they had danced together. Had kissed. It was bittersweet.

'Indeed. It is, after all, the space before the main laboratory. Are you prepared?'

'Yeah.' Lena breathed out slowly, more of the skulls laughing on her phone to indicate the hack was almost complete. The constant siren overhead only added to her stress, and the flashing red lights did little to calm her nerves. However, acting with a level head in the face of such danger was something she had trained for. Lena wouldn't let this get to her. Amelie wouldn't have. She'd be as cool as ice, sniper rifle ready and skills prepared to make that impossible shot when death looked right back at her if she missed.

The door slid open, with Genji and Lena dashing in, instantly fired at by hundreds of bullets, the lights and sounds paired with the security blaring jarring. Genji glided through the air, bouncing about the walls and deflecting anything that got too close to him. Meanwhile, Lena managed well enough herself, blinking here and there, only just catching sight of the opponents before them. A small battalion of grunts, enforcers and assassins amongst them this time making for a difficult fight by its very nature.

'Do it…!' Genji urged, but Lena couldn't. The door was practically blocked by the Talon agents, and the sea of attacks made hacking a near impossibility with the time it required.

'I can't get close enough!' She told the cybernetic man, and it sounded as though he sighed, because not a second later he drew the large sword from his back, swinging it about midair and chanting something in Japanese.

' _The dragon becomes me…!_ '

Lena rarely saw him use the infamous technique, for it demanded an insane amount of power and focus to unleash proper, but an aura of raw, physically manifested energy surrounded Genji, and he flew through the air, a comet of strength cutting down any who got too close. The Talon agents scattered wisely, and Lena blinked to the door, beginning the process of hacking as soon as she could. She could only offer support fire from behind Genji, his zone of attack ranging enough to repel any bullets or enemies who dared to get too close to Lena.

'Come on…!' Lena begged, the purple skulls beginning their work again.

'Hyaah! Hah…!' Genji hollered, his abilities ever impressive, and the fact Lena could even keep up with such a monster in training perplexing her to no end. He was single-handedly keeping a small army of Talon agents at bay while simultaneously reflecting any bullets that flew from their weaponry.

'There…! Alright!' Lena's phone beeped, an enormous giggling skull indicating the hack's completion. She readied herself for what came next, allowing the door to slide open before something that felt like a truck slammed into her stomach, smashing her across the entire room and nearly destroying the wall's very foundation at the other end. She instantly coughed up blood, her whole body shutting down desperately, but before it could do that, she recalled, reappearing back at the entrance to the targeted laboratory and blinking to the side, Doomfist's gauntlet thrust just past her face as she evaded, her back cracking she twisted so unnaturally away from the brutal attack.

'Hmph. Cheating death again, are we? Hard to consider your abilities _true_ strength.' Akande mocked, rotating his shoulder, his weaponized arm humming in preparation.

'Can't say I care what you think!' Lena snapped back.

'Naturally.' Akande chuckled deeply, and the walls on either side of him crumbled into pieces, two large omnics caked in black matter hissing beneath the insanity that encased them, their eyes flickering red. 'But what does a dead girl matter anyway?'

'Jesus…!' Lena's eyes widened, and Genji was sheathing his blade, standing back to back with her and shuffling his feet, having been capable of downing most of the battalion, but not all of them.

'Code red. All units follow up now.' He spoke smoothly; calmly.

It was the worst-case scenario, but part of Lena was thankful Doomfist hadn't gone to Gibraltar. That left only Reaper and maybe a black omnic or two to contend with there. The rest of Talon's known most powerful agents were imprisoned or in front of her now.

'We got to get in behind him and destroy the lab.' Lena muttered.

'Then nothing's changed.' Genji had both blades he carried with him drawn now. He meant to fight and create an opening for Lena. Reinforcements might not make in time. They had to make their move now or never.

'Got it, Luv. Leave it to me.'

'A fool's response.' Doomfist laughed, and he burst from his spot, flying through the air and navigating the sky as if it were his domain. He slammed into the ground, practically upheaving the foundation of the building itself before he charged up his gauntlet, grazing Lena and barely being parried by one of Genji's swords. The black omnics howled, and they also charged, and although slow in nature, their sheer girth made them difficult to avoid. One remaining Talon agent failed to keep a safe distance from the feral machines, and before he knew what happened, he was crushed to death, a bloody mass of gear and limbs twitching on the ground.

'My God…!' Lena wasn't used to it yet. Such raw power and no remorse whatsoever. Omnics weren't created for this purpose. It was terrible! Mondatta would be reeling in his grave. Talon had to be stopped at all costs!

'Such is the fate of all who are weak!' Akande was no better than the beasts fighting alongside him, his duel with Genji escalating, but his ability to command the zone of battle impressive as always. His presence was _just_ enough to keep Lena cautious, for another full-on hit from his gauntlet could spell certain doom for her if she couldn't recall in time. The toll on her body from reversing time and twisting the damage done to her wasn't recommended either.

'Hmph…! Not bad!' Genji taunted, intercepting Doomfist again, flipping about midair and narrowly avoiding the raging omnics.

'Heh! Your skills are wasted in the ashes of a failed organization, boy!'

Lena finally managed to squeeze into the lab that Akande and the omnics had emerged from, but when she finally made it, her heart sunk into her stomach and she shook her head, eyes burning at the sight.

'No…! No! No! No! No!'

It was already in shambles. Doomfist himself could have done it, and perhaps he contributed, but the researchers that had evidently been conducting experiments on the freshly produced black omnics were all dead, their corpses strewn about the sparking machinery like rag dolls.

Were they set up? Had Sombra lured Overwatch here so that the base after all…?

No! Amelie! Angela! Winston! Torbjorn! Everyone…!

A black omnic crashed into the room, and Lena blinked away, stumbling over the debris and barely keeping herself up, the monstrosity hissing out steam from its mouth, its glowing, blood-red eyes staring Lena down with lethality. It slowly arose from the destruction, preparing to charge again, but Lena had another bomb on her, and she stuck the omnic with it, apologizing to Mondatta in her brain, and recalling as the explosive went off, unloading three rounds of pulse bullets into the omnic's head until it stalled, giving her the chance to escape.

'It was a trap…!' Lena screamed, and Genji grunted angrily, still contending with Akande and the other omnic. 'It's all gone. They must've moved the research!'

'Imbeciles.' Doomfist chuckled. 'Reaper is surely having his long-awaited fill by now.'

The doorway to which Lena and Genji had entered suddenly crumbled as well, and three more black omnics stepped in, this time, their slender builds making for much more agile foes, presumably. They screeched inhumanely, and pounced, the area filled with enemies leaving Lena and Genji hardly any space to move.

'Now, you die.' Doomfist claimed deeply, and for a moment, Lena believed him. She was trapped, and all the abilities she had been blessed with couldn't get her away from this new foe. This alien, uncanny representation of what could be so good and so wonderful twisted into demonic proportions. She recalled the way Mondatta's body had fallen in slow motion before her. One of her greatest failures. One of her largest regrets. She pictured the first time she lay eyes on Emily. She visualised the look Amelie had given her when Lena had begged for a reason to the death she had caused.

Lena didn't want to die. Not again. Never again. She had far, far too much to live for now. More than ever before…no matter how confusing it all could be.

'Lena…!' Genji hollered, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her up, the whole building shaking as Reinhardt charged in, pinning the enormous omnics and swinging his incredible weapon around like the beast he could be. His whole body was glowing a hue of blue, and his movements were faster, more deadly than Lena could remember seeing them in recent memory.

A nano boost.

'I feel _powerful_ …!' He exclaimed, mutilating one of the larger omnics until it was a heap of scrap. Brigitte was present not a minute later, and even Jack was mowing down the agile omnics that had avoided certain destruction.

'No need for finesse now; destroy it all!' Jack commanded, and although Lena half-expected Doomfist to retreat, he remained, and fought with unimaginable strength, punishing Reinhardt into a wall, throwing Brigitte after him, and bursting to Jack, crushing his gun and kicking him clear across the room.

A golden orb passed by everyone, circulating above Reinhardt, and a deep purple, seemingly toxic colour overtook Doomfist, his confusion momentary just prior to beginning his attack anew.

'I'll kill you all here and now…!' And he launched into the sky, pieces of the roof collapsing in from where he disappeared.

'Scatter…!' Jack demanded, but it happened too quickly, and Akande crushed where the man attempted to recover, a ray of light flashing as Zenyatta pushed back, having defended Jack with what appeared to be a pure aura of spiritual energy.

'I owe you one…' Jack grumbled.

'A mere omnic stopping my attack like this?' Doomfist marvelled.

'Life is…mysterious, isn't it?' Zenyatta answered wistfully.

Genji appeared behind Doomfist a moment later, his blade already nearly wrapped around the man's enormous neck, but the remaining black omnics stopped him, and Lena herself sprang back into action, attempting to fend off the beings as best she could, the fight forcing both herself and Genji to utilize their agile styles to the maximum.

It was hardly a simple matter, and without Jack's gun, and with both Reinhardt and Brigitte being close range fighters, the already fatigued individuals were forced to dig into their reserves, giving everything they had to at least end the confrontation without any severe casualties.

Fortunately, Lena caught Ana at the doorway, and she was able to rest a little easier, knowing the woman would be providing unparalleled support from the wings. Not only that, but Zenyatta was also using his unique, healing techniques to push Lena and Genji to the brink, allowing them to fighter harder and more aggressively than they would be comfortable enacting without him. With Reinhardt and Brigitte protecting both individuals, it made even Doomfist's assaults more manageable, and the man must have known it was a losing battle, for he disengaged, distancing himself from some of Overwatch's best with a grunt. Only two of the black, smaller omnics remained, and they were twitching strangely, Lena noticed.

'Well done, Overwatch. You have forced my hand.' Akande declared.

'We're taking you in, Akande. Give up.' Jack pushed, and this made the larger man laugh.

'Where?' He said menacingly. 'To Gibraltar? Hard to take me to a base that no longer exists.'

'Enough with the bluffs.'

Lena bit at her lip. What if it wasn't a bluff? Something was obviously happening back at base, and despite only Reaper being the known threat within Talon's ranks still, what if Sombra _had_ betrayed them? What if all her friends who had stayed behind were…?

'You'll just have to wait and see. This little game between Talon and Overwatch ends today, regardless. You were always the weaker organization. Now, it is time to be devoured.'

'The omnics…!' Ana screamed.

Lena saw it as well. They were glowing a dangerous red, grunting and having unsettling spasms. Self-destruction!

'Behind my shield!' Reinhardt bellowed.

'Behind _our_ shields!' Brigitte encouraged as well.

It was the only way. Lena grabbed Genji and blinked snug in next to Reinhardt, and not a second later, the world went white with a sound that muted all else.


	74. LXXIV: Pharah

Pharah

She was shaking. In Fareeha's grasp her lady was trembling with fear. Nemesis? Was she supposed to know who that was?

'Are there any weapons in here?' Fareeha calmed herself, knowing what had to be done. Her duty. Her calling. A protector and fighter. This was her responsibility. Survival. She would protect the innocent, and Fareeha couldn't think of anyone purer than Angela.

'Just my handgun in my desk.' Angela muttered, causing Fareeha to kneel in front of her, resting hands on either side of the woman's face, forcing her to look into the younger girl's eyes.

'It'll be okay. I'm here.'

Angela touched Fareeha's hand, but the shivering wasn't stopping.

'Nemesis…Divine retribution. Athena's counterpart and…superior? He overrode her so easily…'

'Nothing is accomplished by panicking. You know this.' Fareeha tried, eyeing Angela's desk and knowing she would be more comfortable if she had a firearm of some kind on her. But her lady took precedence for the moment. She wouldn't leave her just yet. Fortunately, Angela shook her head, nodding to Fareeha thereafter.

'Indeed. I…I apologize. This attack feels different than anything I've encountered before. Perhaps only the uncanny nature of the first black omnic Jack and I fought can only come close to this…dread. The unknown. It is a frightful thing.'

'We face it together.' Fareeha grinned, and Angela smiled woefully.

'How can you be so strong no matter what the circumstance?'

A fair question. Obviously, Angela gave her strength, but even before meeting her Fareeha had always been driven to use her abilities to fight for what she believed was justice. This was no different.

'Because it is one of my few good qualities.'

'Stop it.' Angela snapped. 'You know you have more than _a few_ good qualities.'

'Heh.' Fareeha shrugged. She helped Angela to her feet, navigating her way to the doctor's desk and extracting the weapon her girlfriend had relayed would be present. It was a tiny thing, and it hardly seemed as though it would be terribly effective, but it was better than nothing.

"Enough resisting, ladies. You'll only hurt yourselves…"

'We will fight until the end.' Fareeha declared, and this "Nemesis" individual only laughed darkly before his presence seemed to disappear altogether for the moment.

'What do you propose we do, Fareeha?' Angela asked quietly, perhaps frightened Nemesis was still listening in.

'I will assume the worst, and that our base is currently completely infiltrated by the enemy. That being said, our lack of information is troublesome, and getting eyes on the scope of this attack takes priority alongside your safety.'

'So…To the main communication tower? To Winston?'

Fareeha nodded, gripping Angela's gun and familiarizing herself with the weight and finer details of the weapon for optimal use.

'It is also most likely to be excessively guarded. Therefore, I want to recommend that we get to my suit before we attempt anything drastic. That way, we at least have a means of attack and navigation that puts the enemy at a slight disadvantage.'

'So…our room?' Angela blinked.

'Yes.' Even amidst such a trying scenario, the way Angela said "our room" gave Fareeha pause and a flutter in her chest. 'Thankfully, I'm a prude and insist on keeping it under my personal watch within most circumstances. I have confidence that we can make it to our living quarters, but I may need to get violent if it comes down to it.'

Angela didn't answer right away, and it twisted Fareeha's heart with adoration.

'That is…I will only kill if absolutely necessary. Is that acceptable?'

The doctor nodded slowly.

'So be it…'

'I'm sorry.' Fareeha touched her lady's face.

'No. You're a soldier. Our enemy will have no mercy. Thus, you should resist allowing them to take advantage of your…and my moral compass.'

Fareeha squeezed Angela's hand and led her to the door, tapping at the terminal and not being terribly surprised that it had been hacked to keep agents from easily scrambling.

'A final question,' Fareeha swallowed, almost fearing the answer for some reason.

'Yes?'

'Do I…have regenerative qualities, like yourself, now?'

'…I believe so. But be careful, nonetheless.'

Interesting. Fareeha prayed she wouldn't have to find out for certain the hard way. She pointed her gun at the terminal, destroyed it, and manually forced the door open, grunting at the effort required, her muscles flexing and body screaming from the sudden exertion of strength.

'Stay close.' She requested of Angela, and she nodded, uncertainty in her blue eyes. The base shook in irregular intervals, the smell of fire, smoke, and something Fareeha couldn't recognize infiltrating her senses. She pulled Angela along, sticking to the shadows created by the surrounding buildings, and hating the sight of agents down. The sirens were, surprisingly, still going off, and Fareeha felt Angela's grip tighten at the sight of the dead troops, some of them potentially still holding on to life.

'I'm sorry.' Fareeha apologized, and when she turned back to the alley they were traversing, a number of Talon agents were there to greet them. They were completely equipped, guns ready and not a word passing between any of them before they started firing. Fareeha shoved Angela to the side, following in after her for some cover, a bullet grazing her shoulder and cutting through some of her clothes.

'Mercy and Pharah sighted. Closing in.' One of the terrorists reported calmly.

Fareeha had counted three troopers and one enforcer. Difficult odds, but not the worst. She would draw them close and proceed as necessary.

'Fareeha…!' Angela pointed at the fresh wound, already the gash that had been created closing up nicely.

'I see. That gives me a few more options.' Fareeha gathered her thoughts, playing through the routes of combat available to her. 'What's the healing capability's limit exactly?'

'…Extreme brain or heart damage. Overexertion. Too much damage within a short amount of time.'

Fareeha was relieved Angela understood how dire their position was. She didn't even hesitate to inform her knight of her new parameters. She understood as well as Fareeha how desperate their situation had become. Fareeha circulated through her plans for confrontation again, and then, once she heard one of the troopers draw just close enough, she rolled on the ground, unloading three shots into the closest assailant. She then took aim at a trooper on her far right and did the same before the final grunt and enforcer began their counterattack, bullets raining down the aisle and biting into Fareeha flesh. Her arms, her legs, a couple in her gut. That was fine. She protected the vitals, and could already recognize that a form of healing was certainly taking place.

'Sir. Two agents down, still engaging…' The final trooper started, but Fareeha had quite the aim, and shot the communicator at the side of the agent's head to the ground, crippling his knees and arms immediately thereafter. Finally, the enforcer made his move, closing in on Fareeha hastily and bringing the fight to her.

Enforcers were considered very dangerous as far as Talon agents went. They were cybernetically and genetically enhanced with heavy armour, and typically carried a shotgun, much like the one before Fareeha. Due to her weapon at hand, Fareeha had no choice but to get close, and although she grimaced at the sensation of the said shotgun being pumped into her midriff, she managed to get _her_ gun under the Enforcer's helmet and end him instantly.

Angela was at Fareeha's side not a moment sooner, holding her stomach, her pretty hands getting covered in blood. The pain still occurred, and Fareeha's breaths came out in rasps, a trickle of red trailing down the side of her mouth as she tried to maintain her balance and fight through the discomfort while her nanomachines went to work.

'I will not instruct you on how to fight, Fareeha, but…it is difficult to watch you injured so…'

'They don't seem to be aware of _how_ you saved me.' Fareeha grimaced. 'I have to use that knowledge to my advantage. He never expected me to take that attack head on. Most soldiers wouldn't.'

'You would know…' Angela seemed drained already. So much death around her. She must've been itching to perform her miracles. But she resisted. She was so strong.

Fareeha pried the shotgun from the Enforcer's hands, amazed by how quickly her body got over the agony it had just been experiencing. There was a pinch in her bowels as she shouldered the upgrade in weaponry, but that was about it. She handed Angela's gun back to her, disliking the sight of her lady's reddened hands holding such a deadly instrument.

'Only if necessary.' She encouraged, and Angela nodded. 'Let's keep moving.'

The two women managed to do as much for a moment or so more, yet they had no choice but to engage with a couple more small units, the encounters proceeding similarly to the first. Fareeha's regenerative abilities caught the Talon agents by surprise every time, likely the data they had on her hardly matching with her new fighting style. Fareeha noticed her body was taking longer to recover after the third bout, and while she broke the security terminal outside her and Angela's room and attempted to manually open the door again, the bullet wounds oozed more blood despite the closing already taking place, and she grunted in frustration, her whole body tensing and rejecting the torture it was being put through.

'I'll help.' Angela offered, and she did so willingly, her hair matted in sweat from all the running, and her breaths laboured.

The two women got into their quarters without further resistance, but Fareeha could only assume this Nemesis individual was aware of their movements if he had hacked Athena as extensively as it appeared. They didn't have a moment to lose, and Fareeha kept Angela close as they went to their room, her armour set up upon what could only be viewed as something of a display pedestal. Torbjorn and Brigitte had completely repaired it, the finer details of the piece more finetuned than ever before.

Fareeha stripped naked, hastily changing her clothes and encouraging Angela to do the same before she began donning her armour, the familiar weight of the suit reviving Fareeha's courage and dedication to the task at hand.

With the final piece in place, Fareeha's onboard computer confirmed her ownership with a simple voice command and booted up completely, the immediate area scanned and reported back in a graph of information.

'Okay. Let's move – ' Fareeha felt a tug on her arm, and Angela was looking up at her, the yellow-hued visual disconcerting with how desperate her lover appeared.

'I understand this is hardly the time, but a moment, Fareeha.'

It wasn't. Fareeha feared Nemesis' network of information, and staying still increased the chances of being attacked astronomically. Still, Fareeha allowed her suit to continuously scan their immediate location for up to fifty meters, only minor blips notifying her of Talon agents patrolling and cleaning up remaining Overwatch soldiers.

'What is it?'

'This situation is…dire at best, correct?'

'Now that I have my suit, our chances of survival have increased dramatically.'

'But this Nemesis foe; he is no ordinary enemy. Surely you recognize this.'

Fareeha was trying not to dwell on him, to be perfectly honest, but yes, she agreed internally. Being in the army and on active duty for so long gave her a sense for such things. She recognized overconfidence and confidence based on sheer ability and power easily enough. Nemesis was the latter, and the fact he was personally involved in this latest attack on Overwatch meant he was making a big move that had an end goal of eradicating Overwatch once and for all. He didn't care for survivors. He was done caring about Angela's unique research. Overwatch was a thorn he wanted plucked, and he was present to ensure that happened this very day, when more than half of Overwatch's most capable members weren't around to contest him.

'Escaping might be our only option, but I'd rather not abandon anyone.'

'Nor would I.' Angela concurred, touching Fareeha's armoured chest. 'But just in case…and unlike last time, you should know that, though briefer than I'd prefer, the time I've known you – truly known you – has been the most emotionally fulfilling of my life.'

Fareeha's eyes burned, and she grabbed hold of Angela's hands tightly.

'We're making it out of this alive.'

'An optimistic view, but we both know how little control we have of such things. Nemesis is a variable I fear will destroy Overwatch in its current state.'

'Stop it!' Fareeha yelled.

'I'm simply being realistic, Fareeha.' Angela's gaze shimmered, and her voice ached as she went on. 'You're the love of my life. My soulmate. My hero. I want you to know this just… _just_ in case. I trust you understand my reasoning after all we have been through.'

Fareeha's jaw tightened, and she shook her head.

'I will _never_ abandon you. Never!'

Angela smiled distantly, shrugging.

'You may not have a choice.'

The hell did that mean? But before Fareeha could pry further, Angela's eyes widened, and she shoved Fareeha away. Only in that very moment did her computer's system warn her of an incoming threat. A barrage of bullets cascaded through the room, puncturing Fareeha's armour and forcing her arms up to cover her exposed face, the intensity of the death shower almost too much to bear.

'Angela…! _Angela…!_ ' Fareeha screamed, her computer scanning and locking on to the cloaked figure she recognized immediately as Reaper. Reaper, formally one of Overwatch's most powerful and capable members, also known as Gabriel Reyes. He was now considered one of Talon's best, and all agents were advised to avoid direct confrontation unless their class was that of a Grandmaster. That's how deadly this current foe was. His attack – completely without warning – was proof of his unparalleled lethality.

Fareeha scrambled through her screens, finally locating Angela, her body collapsed across the bed – their bed – in a bloody mass of flesh.

"Agent Angela Ziegler in critical status. Breathing abnormal. Recommendation: emergency care."

'Hmph. Too easy…' Reaper uttered in a warped, psychotic tone.

Fareeha didn't have time to be afraid. She would face one of the world's most terrifying men in mortal combat to defend Angela and give her enough time to recover. She would do everything in her power to drive Reaper back and away from her princess. The dragon had shown itself. Now, the knight had no choice but to brandish her sword and prove her worth.

'You monster…!' Fareeha used just enough of her jetpack's power to lunge forward, but she hit nothing, and in another second, her back was littered with bullets, her wings and ability to fly destroyed in an explosion of electricity and metal.

'I could read that move before even you thought of it, whelp. Did Ana teach you nothing at all?'

Fareeha whirled on the spot, aiming her rockets directly at the masked man, her arm quivering but her raw courage unwavering.

'Do it.' Reaper mocked, the hissing in his voice practically exhaled in black smoke. 'Or are you just as soft and pathetic as your mother?'

It only took one thought of Angela in pain and that was all the encouragement she needed. Fareeha released the rocket, and it almost seemed as though Reaper was going to take the attack head-on…until he evaporated in a flurry of shadows, a clawed hand grabbing the rocket midair and forcing it to explode on the spot, shaking the entirety of the room and lighting it up for a split second. Reaper physically manifested himself anew, and chuckled deeply.

'Pathetic.'

"Have we made contact yet, Reaper?" Nemesis came on the intercoms again, and Fareeha's whole body tensed.

'Affirmative. Agent Mercy and agent Pharah are in my custody now. Disposal can occur at any time.'

Not if Fareeha had anything to say about it! She circulated the next rocket, but in a blur of darkness, Reaper was on her, crushing her arm and the metal that protected it into shambles, causing Fareeha to scream internally, the restrained hollering of pain becoming external when Reaper fired his shot gun into Fareeha's armour in multiple locations, ripping the shell off of her in a display of savagery she didn't think a single human was capable of. She gasped from the indescribable discomfort, her nanomachines reeling in rejection.

"Ah. Perfect. Did you hear that, Overwatch? Resistance means only one thing: an _agonizing_ defeat…rather than simply defeat. Lay down your arms. All of you. Nemesis is passing judgement, and the strong shall now begin devouring the weak."

'Gabriel…please…' Angela wheezed, and Fareeha grit her teeth, pushing up from the ground only to have her neck throttled by Reaper's boot, crushing her voice box and cutting off nearly all her air.

'No. You brought this on yourselves. All of you.' Reaper responded, but his tone sounded perhaps a little off.

'You're not this kind of man.' Angela attempted further.

'Wrong again. I've always been a killer.'

'For the greater good! Even _I_ will admit that some men…some people…shouldn't be allowed to hurt others anymore at some point.'

A beat, and Fareeha could just barely breathe again before Reaper kicked her in the ribs, lifting her by her hair and pushing a gun against her chest.

'Enough, Gabriel! Your fight is with Jack! Not Fareeha!'

'My fight is with Overwatch, and this girl chose to join knowing the lies this organization was built on. The _bodies_ it was built on.'

"Kill her." Nemesis cut in, his voice as cold as ice. "Show Overwatch this isn't a game anymore. I'm sending a feed to all monitors available now."

Reaper's grip only slightly loosened again, but his gun didn't hesitate, and Fareeha could only groan in denial, looking to Angela apologetically, blood caking one of her eyes shut. The sight of her lady's despair was overwhelming. Not like this. Not by one of her hero's hands…

'Gabriel…' Angela mumbled in almost a warning tone. 'Don't. You. Dare.'

"Do it."

'Believe me, Angela,' Reaper growled. 'It gets easier to see after a while.'

And a single bullet bit through flesh thought invulnerable.

One shot. One kill.


	75. LXXV: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

Widow wasn't sure how long she had been staring in the mirror. She hadn't bothered with the primary lights of her little living space, having only a tiny lamp in the main area of her quarters illuminating just enough so that she could make out the shape of her face and shoulders in the rather small reflection. She attempted to picture herself as she was before Talon had conducted their experiments on her. What colour had her eyes been? What shade was her skin naturally? She felt a little guilty for applying more pressure to Dr. Ziegler, but honestly, she had a growing respect and trust for the woman. She had, after all, successfully undone much of Talon's damage. She owed her forevermore, really.

She felt different. That was a given. But Widow hadn't known how much Talon had been twisting her brain for so long. The subtle suggestions of death and destruction. The thirst for combat. The need to kill. They all lingered, like an echo, but the urges to act on such desires had left her almost completely. She wanted to do…other things now. Eat a fine meal. Watch the sun set. Shop for pretty clothes. Go for a walk. Paint, even. Paint? Had she enjoyed such a pastime before? And, naturally, dance. She wanted to dance more than anything else.

Widow lifted her body, her toes remembering the demand and aching at the practise but also reveling in the familiar pain. Her overall mass was heavier than before, she supposed. More muscular. Stronger. Deadlier. What sort of dance could she perform now? Now that needles weren't stabbing her brain on the regular, how could she enchant an audience? How could she tell a story through movements of her body?

She relaxed, her descent a little rough, and sighed. Inevitably, she thought of that troublesome girl as well. She missed her already, and that irked her. The quiet of her quarters wasn't entirely unwelcome, but boredom was beginning to tug at her nerves, and the want to participate in regular activities was truly an unprecedented hurdle. Before, Widow had been capable of staring at a wall and being perfectly content. Planning the next kill. Mentally training. Sleeping. When her past brain wasn't required, and unless she put forth active effort, she was capable of engaging a form of hibernation until the next mission. The next assassination. The next murder.

Widow lurched, vomiting suddenly into the sink, gripping at the sides of the cold granite as the fluids poured out of her mouth, burning her throat and causing her eyes to water.

Another side effect of truly "feeling" again. Regret. Shame. Despair. How many lives had she ruined? How many families were torn apart because of her? She could barely recall much before the Mondatta kill. That one stuck with her, of course. But before that? How many Overwatch agents had she struck down without a second thought? Living here, in Overwatch Gibraltar, it made it clearer than ever; every single individual that fought for Overwatch had a family of some kind. She had destroyed such a valuable piece of one's life.

Widow poured more guck into the drain, groaning painfully and feeling the tears burning her eyes. She stumbled to her tiny kitchen, shakily grabbing at the pills Angela had provided for this very reason. They would help with her transition, nulling her senses to a degree and preventing her from giving in to madness. Widow downed a couple of the large capsules and whimpered, gripping at her stomach and the emptiness she sometimes experienced.

Family. Talon had ripped the word from her world, and it hurt so very, very much. Again, despite having endured the pain of knowing what had happened to her recently, now that Talon's work on her brain wasn't constantly attempting to prevent her from caring, it all hit her without mercy, and she was trembling with agony.

'Lena…' Widow heard herself whisper, holding her sides and crumbling onto the floor. Being left alone was horrible now. It was partially why she had wanted to go on the mission to Rialto to begin with. Widow had a feeling this would happen. Her emotions were, as Moira had made clear many times, irrefutably troublesome in their intensity.

Suddenly, two thuds in succession were heard outside her room, and goosebumps pervaded Widow's body. She was still a capable assassin, having been through inhumane training to make her the perfect killer. Danger was beyond her door. Two, maybe three presences lurked. Just as abruptly, the whole base shook, as if explosions were set off nearby, and Widow stood up, looking around her living quarters for anything to use as a weapon. Only a single set of utensils, really. A knife. A fork. They would have to do…assuming she was dealing with a human.

The intercom beeped, and Widow held her breath.

"Howdy there, little lady. Heard there's a gal calling herself Widowmaker takin' up residence here."

A female voice. A venomous, dangerous female voice. Widow could tell. She was a killer. There was pain in her tone. A difficult past? A hardened soul? Who was this woman and how confident was she to knowingly confront _the_ Widowmaker of Talon? If this was, indeed, a terrorist attack, what was Talon after?

Widow didn't respond. She saw no benefit in doing so. Only certain Overwatch agents had the authority to override her lock and let themselves in. She stepped back slowly, away from the door, and glanced about, the dread of being trapped beginning to suffocate her. Another missed benefit of having an altered brain; she rarely experienced fear. Now, starting with the thought of losing Lena on her current mission, Widow knew what it was like to be scared for her life without any form of dulling influence.

"Heh. Gonna play that kinda game, huh? I ain't usually into these sorta jobs, but when someone waves that kinda cash in my face, what's a girl to do? You understand, right?"

Widow knew what came next. Forced entry. She would have to fight enough to escape. She was thankful for being in comfortable clothing, although they lacked any form of protection. Tight, black pants and a tank top did little against bullets of any kind.

"Attention, Overwatch. The beginning of your end is here at last. You have two options: Surrender gracefully to your fate of destruction, or struggle and be wiped from this planet regardless."

Another voice, but this one instantly made Widow's knees buckle and sent a sharp pain through her mind. She recognized that terrible sound. She had only heard it seldomly, but the weight of its demands lingered. Strip naked. Walk through Talon's base. It hadn't bothered her then. It did now. Her face burned at the recollection. The voice belonged to the "supposed" leader of Talon. His name was never uttered, and part of Widow believed there was more to it than his apparent omniscient presence. Was he really here?

"Hm. Angela Ziegler. Mercy. Grandmaster class. One of the most valued members of Overwatch. A pleasure to finally speak with you."

No. If she was targeted…!

"Last time I'm gonna knock, little lady. I ain't gonna ask nicely again."

Widow's mind was swirling. Too much was happening at once. The timing couldn't be worse. She was still somewhat fresh out of her operation. What was she capable of at this moment? Was this all planned? Was she going back to Talon?

"You wish to know who I am?" The mechanical voice again. Was it still speaking directly to Dr. Ziegler?

"Tch. Fine. The rough way it is." The woman outside of Widow's door grunted, and an explosion sounded not a moment later, damaging Widow's door enough to allow the construct to be kicked down, the owner of the dangerous threats stepping through the smoke, waving at the dark mist and presenting herself to Widow. She was tall and slender, with platinum hair, prominent, red lipstick, and a piercing stare, her thick mascara making her sharp eyes even more threatening. Her outfit reminded Widow of that ridiculous cowboy, McCree, right down to the metallic-looking arm that she brandished what appeared to be a semi-automatic rifle with. Three ruffians grinned stupidly behind her. None of these individuals seemed like true Talon agents. As the seeming leader of the little group had suggested, they were evidently hired guns.

'Name's Ashe. How you doin'?'

Widow glared, almost insulted this was all Talon thought they needed to subdue her. How powerful was this woman?

'Get out.' Widow hissed, shifting her feet upon the ground and spacing them apart just right, gripping the utensils in her hands.

"Fareeha Amari. Master class. A promising agent. A shame your true potential will never be realized."

It was hard to focus. With that monster's voice over the base's main speakers, the flashing alarm lights and sirens, and this Ashe woman laughing with her eyes at Widow, how was she supposed to counterattack coherently?

'After I made this trip specially for you? Don't think so. Ya'll can come quietly, or I can take you in by force. Choice is yours, precious.'

Widow's eye twitched. Oh, really? You and what army? The insults were compounding.

"It's the natural course of your reality now, Ms. Amari."

What was being said on the other end?

'Fine. Guess I'm gonna hafta rough you up a bit.' Ashe shouldered her gun, smirking as she traversed closer. Foolish woman. Step into the web, if you dare, fly.

"Gladly. Will Dr. Ziegler be capable of 'reviving' you again when I'm done ripping you in half before her very eyes?"

Damn it. Stop talking, you machine.

'Hmph. That's a wee bit violent.' Ashe chuckled.

'Er…Boss? Didn't they say we shouldn't mess with her too much?' One of the lackeys reminded Ashe.

'Shut up! I do things my way or no way. Just watch and learn.'

"Heh. Take heed, Overwatch. Yes, I hear you, Winston. Calm yourself. You'll have your turn. Now, where was I? Yes. Take heed, Overwatch, for this foolish girl will be the first to die; die by the hands of…Nemesis."

Nemesis!? Was that his name? If he was revealing who he was, then…! This was serious. Widow didn't have time to play games with these hooligans. She had to find Dr. Ziegler. Compartmentalize priorities. Save the most vital members of Overwatch first and foremost. Don't get captured. She didn't want to go back. Never. Never!

'Oh? Look like a rattlesnake 'bout to snap. Heh. Let's see what you're made of – '

Widow dashed forward, kicking Ashe's legs from under her and catching her mid-fall, grappling her throat and squeezing tight, the woman immediately coughing, elbowing Widow in the stomach and flailing wildly. In moments she would be unconscious, and her boys could only raise their guns hesitantly, aware that their "boss" was now a human shield.

'You…bitch…!' Ashe gasped, and Widow almost smirked until the spitfire in her grasp screamed out desperately. 'Bob! Do something…!'

Bob? One of these pathetic lackeys?

Widow's whole entrance caved in, and suddenly, an enormous omnic was crashing through her living quarters. She hardly caught a glance of the machine before the air was knocked out of her, and she was pinned into the opposite wall so hard it nearly caved in as well. Widow's vision blurred, and she vomited again, blood mixed in with the rancid bile.

'Tch. Give her a light tap to teach her who's the boss now, will ya?' Ashe murmured angrily.

Widow clenched her jaw, and no sooner had she done so did Bob take a swing at her face, the impact shaking her brain and practically knocking her completely unconscious.

'Yer goin' back, "Widowmaker". Talon paid me enough to buy a small city to bring you in. Guess they heard how ol' Ashe can get things done when she needs to, huh?'

' _Coward…_ ' Widow cursed in French angrily. 'You had no chance…against me…'

'True. True. Had a bit more bite than I anticipated. But that's why Bob's here. Either way, I get paid. Don't care about no honour or nothin'.'

Fear gripped at Widow's heart then. Back to Talon? Back to that living hell? Without Lena? Without her dance? Without…anything!? No. God, no. Not now…Not when she finally accepted her life again.

'They…killed my husband.' She muttered urgently.

'Heh. Men are pigs, and people die all over the world all the time. What do I care?'

Widow clenched her eyes shut.

'They made me a monster…'

'Obviously. Might be better off dead, right?'

'They…killed my child before it was even born…'

This finally made Ashe's eyes flinch, but she steadied herself hastily, angling her gun under Widow's chin.

'Too bad, so sad. Life's merciless. We all learn that at some point. You were weak. Now you ain't. Grand, isn't it?'

This was…it? Was life so cruel? After everything she had been through, this was how it ended? Before, she could fathom killing herself to avoid returning to Talon, but Lena had prevented her from doing so then, and she inadvertently did the same now. No. That was the coward's way out. Lena would fight until the end. Kicking and screaming, Widow wouldn't make this easy. Never again. She wasn't _anyone's_ plaything.

A strange beeping sounded suddenly, then, and Bob's grip loosened abruptly. As Widow's mind processed the miracle, Sombra appeared behind Ashe, a violet ray of light washing over her as she materialized on the spot, a gun pressed at the back of the woman's white head.

'Sombra online.' The Hispanic uttered, looking a little worse for wear.

'The hell is this?' Ashe frowned, and Widow peeled away from Bob, circling Ashe dangerously, as if stalking a prey.

'I suppose I owe you.' Widow spoke to her old "partner".

'Meh. Let's call it even. Overwatch doesn't do the whole killing thing, right?'

Widow was surprised. She half-expected Sombra to betray the organization, but she appeared to be serious about this particular allegiance.

'I…don't believe so.'

'…Bummer.' And the somewhat unpredictable girl knocked Ashe out with the butt of her gun, turning to the lackeys and pointing the weapon at them now. Widow cracked her neck, touching Sombra's shoulder softly.

'Allow me.'

Part of her still revelled in the fear that immediately developed in the men's eyes when they processed exactly what was about to happen to them. In no less than five seconds, Widow subdued them all, her athletic prowess and deadly physical capabilities more than enough to knock all of Ashe's cronies out cold.

Sombra whistled.

'Forgot how good you were.'

'That's because you were always sneaking around…like a rat.'

'Hey. You know I just saved you, right?'

'Indeed. But we are even, are we not?'

'Touché.' Sombra glanced around, tapping at Widow's door terminal and playing around with the device, frustration coming over her normally relaxed, almost taunting expression. 'I need to get to the tower. Can't do a thing with this firewall in place.'

'What's happening, precisely?' Widow asked, but Sombra just grunted, beckoning the assassin to follow her and sneak into another vacant room nearby, locking the door behind them and doing something to the door's terminal in their new location.

'That Nemesis guy or whatever? He's a super computer like Athena, except he's got an actual body and the whole dealio. I can't find a way into the network. He's got it totally compromised. That uber monkey guy's got some decent rigs in the tower over yonder, but getting there's gonna be a bitch. Can't do a thing about the lockdown until then. Tried to send a signal to the team off in Rialto, but it was just a blip, and they might've missed it. I'm guessin' they're gonna try and capture you, free Moira, and kill peeps like "Mercy" and such. Grand time to join the losing side, huh?'

'If you truly thought they would be defeated, you wouldn't be here.'

Sombra chuckled at this.

'You'd think. But this is a bad situation all around, Spider. They already infiltrated this place…hard. Reaper's killed a whole bunch of agents, and the body count is climbing. I can't even get out because that Nemesis freak has his own barrier set up that'll totally give me away if I step outside the base. Oh, and there's a bunch of black omnics creeping around. Freaky things, I tell ya.'

"Enough resisting, ladies. You'll only hurt yourselves…"

Widow swallowed.

'He's not talking to us.' Sombra reiterated. 'I programmed a dummy feed here when we stepped in. I'm guessin' he's trying to take out the angel and her moody knight. Girls' got guts; I'll give them that.'

'We need to help them. If Dr. Ziegler falls, Overwatch is crippled.'

Sombra raised a brow, grinning slyly.

'And you can never be "normal" again.'

Widow didn't have an answer to that. Perhaps that was partially true, but at the same time…Lena cared about the people here. If that wasn't reason enough to help, then what was?

'Heh. I'm teasing ya.' Sombra shrugged. 'Fine. I know where they are, but it's a red zone. Reaper is stalking the monkey's tower, locking that place down, and I think this Nemesis freak is personally going after our good doctor. Sure you wanna go?'

Widow didn't hesitate. She wasn't that woman anymore. It was…refreshing.

'Yes.'

'I can't hack the guy easily, I'm sure. And we don't have time to grab your gun. We'll have to snag something for you off a corpse.'

Corpse?

'I told you; Talon's serious this time. It's not so hot out there.'

'…Fine.'

'Still not the talkative type, huh? Ah, well. Let's raise some hell and all that, alright?'

'Thanks.'

'Yuck.' Sombra's face construed sourly. 'Don't act all cute. It's gross. Put on your mean girl pants, Spider. We got a big job ahead of us.'

Widow nodded. She would fight. She would fight until her dying breath. Her perspective was vastly different now, and she would use this newfound strength to save lives instead of ending them. Like Lena, she would become a hero worthy of one of the best there was.


	76. LXXVI: Mercy

Mercy

Reaper had no way of seeing it coming. The bullet passed through his neck clean and lodged itself deep into the blood-spattered wall next to Angela. She watched in horror as Gabriel grabbed at his throat, gurgling inhumanely and evaporating in a cloud of shadows and smoke. What had he become? A monster. Plain and simple. Moira had had her way with the vulnerable man, and little tied him to the old soldier Angela had known. It was tragic, because part of the good doctor thought she could have brought him back. That was obviously not the case. It wasn't worth the risk.

Widowmaker and Sombra sauntered into the room, then, and Angela had never been so relieved to see the former Talon agents. Amelie was wielding what appeared to be an enemy sniper rifle, and Sombra was already hacking the intercom within the immediate area, blocking Nemesis for the time being.

'We don't have time. Big baddy Nemesis isn't gonna take this little rebellion laying down, but he isn't gonna just send anyone to deal with us either since Reaper was forced out of here.' Sombra spoke calmly, tapping away at a self-projected screen and manipulating mechanics within what was left of the network of Overwatch at will. Her fingers moved as though they were a professional pianist, and it was quite the ability to see firsthand.

'Angela…' Fareeha had made her way to the bed, leaning on it with the arm that had been crushed by Reaper, the healing taking time to pick up momentum.

'I'm fine, Fareeha. Allow your nanomachines to do their work.' Angela touched the woman, subconsciously allowing her superior, more developed self-recovery to leak into her lover, assisting with the extensive damage that had been done to her body over such a short period of time.

'I failed you. I'm sorry.' Fareeha apologized, but Angela could only shake her head with a wry grin.

'You were against one of the world's greatest soldiers. Do not condemn yourself, my knight. You fought ever so bravely.' The words were pretty enough, but it was clear Fareeha's pride had been severely wounded; an injury Angela couldn't hope to heal immediately even with all her power.

'Gabes? Yeah. He's a treat. Battle maniac, that one. Takes on four to five enforcers for a "little training". S'all good, Birdy.' Sombra chuckled.

Angela turned away from Fareeha for a moment, the dread that had weighed her down prior remaining and only grasping her soul more prevalently than before.

'You both have my thanks.' She stated clearly, seeing Widow's eyes flicker at the gratitude expressed. 'Talon wishes to eliminate Overwatch completely before beginning their war. They hardly care for my wellbeing or potential contributions to their cause anymore. With the black omnics, they feel it's time to reawaken the nightmare from yesteryear…but without Overwatch to stop it again.'

'Obviously.' Sombra finished whatever she was doing, closing up her monitors.

'What is the plan, then? I can still fight.' Fareeha stood up, her chest heaving, and the blood covering her clothes bothering Angela. She was an utter disaster. Sweat. Scabs. Scars. Bruises. They were fading, but it would evidently take time for the barrage of damage to disappear completely. Perhaps it never would. Angela's body had been conditioned slowly to the point it was at now, her nanomachines evolving alongside her physical growth. Those same nanomachines couldn't be expected to perform perfectly within a new host. The fact they worked as well as they did was a miracle in and of itself, but their limitations and lifespan concerned Angela, and Fareeha was a first-class warrior, utilizing her new powers almost recklessly. It pained Angela to speak up in that moment, but she couldn't let the woman throw her life away; not yet.

'I don't recommend you push your luck any further, Fareeha. Surely you can tell that your regenerative powers are having difficulty keeping pace with your demands.'

Fareeha's brow furrowed, and she simply frowned as she answered.

'I don't think there's a choice.' She said stubbornly. 'Although, I'll admit that I shouldn't fight so recklessly anymore.'

Angela supposed that was the best she could ask for. Given the situation, there wasn't enough room to hold back. They _had_ to counterattack with everything available to them.

'Moving through the base is risky business.' Sombra started. 'I can hack my immediate area well enough, but this Nemesis freak's got everything else locked down. I say we go for the head.'

'What do you mean?' Fareeha asked, thankfully, for Angela wasn't confident she knew what the somewhat mysterious girl meant.

'Destroy Nemesis.' Widow almost sighed.

'It's our only chance. The longer this drags the more Overwatch crumbles. Can't be protected if you guys are gone, right?' Sombra shrugged.

'Do you know where Nemesis is?' Angela pressed, although she had a more than educated guess.

'The control tower, where your monkey friend hangs out. He's probably messing with all the data there as we speak. I wouldn't hold out hope for the big guy, though.'

Angela's heart jumped. If they made it there quick enough, however, perhaps she could…

'It would take more than some machine to beat Winston.' Fareeha replied sharply. 'He countered Doomfist himself, from what I've heard.'

'And this guy stands above that loser. I'm just sayin'.' Sombra rolled her eyes, continuing her surprisingly thorough thought process. 'Anyway, we get ourselves over there and once Nemesis is on sight, I just need to make direct contact to hack the bastard. As soon as he's vulnerable, Widow here will work her magic and find the soft spot to fill with bullets.'

'How long do you need?' Fareeha asked wisely.

'Hah! That's the thing: I got no idea. Might not even be able to break into his code. The guy is obviously some kinda super computer, and there's only been one time I've been forced back playing my games, so, as long as he's not directly in connection with _that_ shady bunch, then we _should_ be okay. Maybe. Probably.'

It was foolhardy at the very best, but what choice did they have? Talon had them cornered. Overwatch was scrambling like rats in a maze, and this could very well be the last line of defence. Angela hated the odds, but it certainly beat being slaughtered here, where so many precious memories had already been formed.

Angela turned to Fareeha, the young woman sensing her gaze and looking back at her, the hardened resolve on her soldier's visage softened subconsciously. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this person; this girl who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in an attempt to bring Angela back to this very place. Their friendship developed hastily, Angela admiring Fareeha's calm demeanor and loyal dedication to justice. Her androgynous allure took Angela by surprise, and she once again recalled that hot, sweat-filled day when Fareeha was digging away at the hard earth, having brought Angela back to say goodbye to patients she had cared for so, and Angela had discovered the unfiltered joy of falling in love.

Would her hand be forced again? If Winston was barely holding on to life, would Angela be willing to give more of herself for another? If Overwatch was crumbling around her, would she draw from the limited pool of power remaining to save them all, or would she turn her back, covering her hands with blood just so that she could hold Fareeha's for a little longer?

The answer was irrefutably simple. And Fareeha knew it.

'No…' The Egyptian said in a hushed voice, and Angela's heart jumped at how connected they were now.

'There might not be a choice.' The doctor answered as bravely as she could muster.

'The world needs you…!' Fareeha was a strong girl. So very, very strong. But this broke her. Her voice trembled. ' _I_ need you…!' She finished selfishly, but honestly. Ever honest. Always honest.

'And you will always have me.'

Fareeha's lip quivered, restraining herself because of the others present.

'The heck you two going on about?' Sombra asked in annoyance.

'Nothing. Nothing at all.' Angela closed the subject and her heart. She had to steel herself for what was to occur, potentially. She would make the decision when the time came; if it even did that. Perhaps all would be well. Perhaps this "plan" would be executed perfectly. She could only pray because…because she truly wanted more time with this incredible woman standing so close to her now, as if enacting the perfect sentinel.

'Well, alrighty, then.' Sombra nodded to Widow. 'You're going to have to do most of the fighting, Bae. Not a whole lotta anything stands a chance against you when you get serious. Leave the omnics to me. I can even mess with those lame black ones if they get too close. We just gotta get to Nemesis and take him out. Risky? Uh…duh. But what else can we do, right?'

Widow examined her rifle closely, shrugging in minor irritation.

'This shall have to do…' She hummed, and Angela couldn't hide how impressed she was by the assassin's lack of complaints considering she would be more than a little taxed throughout the mission.

'If we get into trouble, you're gonna have to fight, too, yeah?' Sombra poked at Fareeha. 'Spider here can only do so much. I mean, she's crazy when she gets going, but we gotta do our part and all that.'

'Fine. I would have contributed either way.' Fareeha had regained most of her composure, although Angela could sense her lingering apprehensions.

'Nice.' Sombra grinned. 'Then we better not waste any more time, am I right? Nemesis has probably already sent a goon or two to…'

What happened next took place so fast Angela almost lost track of where she was. An explosion erupted outside the entrance to the apartment, and everything shook, Angela's ears ringing as the base's alarms insisted on buzzing in harmony with the unpleasant sounds. In near immediate succession, another bomb went off, followed by another until Angela felt her body being pressed into the wall, Fareeha holding her in place and the sound of maniacal laughter replacing the high-pitched squeaking that was shaking the doctor's brain.

Through the smoke created, Widow was already dashing within it, the sound of gunfire and combat filtering into the montage of unpleasant noises. A low, almost animalistic grunt. More laughter and further, although minor, explosions. It was chaos.

Fareeha held Angela in place, turning to the fight that had suddenly broke out, giving her one final squeeze on the shoulders prior to joining. When the dust finally settled, Angela could make out that two men had infiltrated her and Fareeha's living quarters, and they were somehow making a stand against Widow and Fareeha. The one who laughed insanely was unsettlingly thin, with explosives of every nature jingling about his form, his sunken in eyes and toothy smile frightening in every way as he bounced about, his one mechanical leg springing him around like a deranged drunk. The second individual was enormous, his makeshift shotgun only adding to the unprecedented destruction the two foes caused. He took the brunt of the damage Fareeha and Widow exacted, pumping himself full of a strange liquid that must've been some sort of drug that allowed his already durable, round body to absorb more damage than normal humans could dream of.

'Heheheh…! Not every day you get a gig like this, huh?'

'Just finish the job…'

A weasel and a pig. That's all Angela could amount the two men to being. They were tricky enough to deal with, and the string of explosions only cemented the fact Overwatch Gibraltar could very well be a thing of the past considering the surplus of damage the base seemed to be enduring. At the very least, Angela and Fareeha would need a new room.

Still, despite these fresh foes making quite the entrance, they were little more than the "goons" Sombra had eluded to, and they stood no chance against the combined might of Widowmaker and Pharah, even if the two girls were fighting with minor handicaps. Although the thinner man was dealt with easily enough with the right blow to the head, the larger foe required a little more effort; effort that was readily available once Widow and Fareeha could focus their attacks on him and him only. They had to get particularly violent with the beast of a man, crippling him brutally with bullets until he grunted deeply, a final knock-out occurring thanks to multiple vicious elbows to the head via Fareeha, the rate at which she delivered the snappy movement impressive.

'Nicely done, ladies.' Sombra clapped. 'Hope you got some energy left for the boss.'

Fareeha looked to Widow, and the woman gave her a daring expression, as if to tell her that she personally had more than enough to deliver.

'We'll be fine.' Fareeha cracked her shoulders, the nanomachines surely helping with her confidence.

'Tch.' Sombra kicked at the men, pure disgust upon her face. 'Gross. Talon getting desperate or what? What's with all this hired help? I mean, they're not bad, I guess, but really?' She looked over her own body, the girl's violet-toned makeup almost glowing. 'Anyway, this is the part where I go invisible for a bit. When I see the right opening, I'll get on Nemesis, but until then, no point risking my pretty little head, right? Good luck, "friends".'

Sombra waved her hand over herself and did as she claimed she would, the technology behind her disappearing act picking at Angela's scientific mind.

"Good luck!' Sombra encouraged, Angela getting the feeling she was already on her way. It was a bit of a leap to fully trust the woman, considering what she had done in the past, but there was little choice, really. Abandoning everyone wasn't an option either; not to Angela. She nodded to Fareeha, and her knight responded in kind.

'Let's move.' Fareeha commanded, and they pressed onward and out, one of the riskiest missions Angela had ever partaken in on its way.

* * *

Navigating to the main communication tower wasn't a simple task nor a terribly difficult one thanks to Fareeha and, admittedly, Widowmaker. The assassin was something else completely, and Angela could almost see Fareeha's frustration upon realizing the gap between their abilities. Not a single Talon agent stood a chance against Widowmaker, and while Fareeha could handle the troopers easily enough, any agent beyond that proved somewhat troublesome save for when Widow herself engaged. Indeed, some of the Talon agents actually retreated on sight of Widowmaker, having enough sense to know they couldn't compete with Talon's greatest human weapon.

However, Angela had time to observe the woman while she fought, and although she was certainly a marvel in the way she could dismantle any threat that came to stop them, there was an undeniable sadness in the sniper's eyes as she engaged in violence, and Angela prayed this would be one of their last fights. If Nemesis could be dealt with here and now, would that at least postpone further conflict?

It took no longer than ten minutes for the small band of women to near the communication tower, taking a higher-leveled route that connected two of the buildings via a tiny bridge to get a better angle on what they were dealing with exactly. Fareeha took in the sight first, a Talon sniper out cold nearby. She leaned back, keeping her voice low as she relayed what she had seen.

'It looks like some sort of glacier has encased Winston's tower. I _think_ I saw Nemesis outside it with three black titan-class omnics near him and approximately fifty Talon agents of various types.'

Thankfully, on their way over, the alarm had finally been cut, which somehow made the scene all the more eerie. Angela was holding Fareeha's hand tightly, thankful Winston was potentially safe for the moment, but still ill from the sight of so many dead Overwatch agents witnessed upon making it this far. She couldn't bring them back. Reviving and healing were like night and day as far as what her body could realistically perform. She knew this. But it hardly stopped her from imagining doing just that. Her sense of duty overrode logic at times. Perhaps she was allowing Fareeha's contrastingly admirable yet dangerous traits to invade her psyche.

'Targeting Nemesis is our only chance. The others will have to be ignored. Defeating him is everything.' Fareeha went on. She sounded sure of herself, and anyone else would have thought nothing of the comment, but Angela's chest tightened, and she realized she was witnessing a very rare, deeply hidden emotion in her knight: fear.

'A lion's den…' Widow reinforced the idea. 'Hmph. So be it.'

'Fareeha…' Angela started, but the woman only gripped her hand tighter.

'It's our only choice. We take the initiative now or allow ourselves to be hunted. He might even know we're here already because of his ability to tap into Overwatch's network. Who knows? Either way, we have to fight.'

'Be careful…' Angela forced herself to say instead of begging Fareeha not to go. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't make it harder for this brave, young woman. She couldn't be selfish, just as she wouldn't expect Fareeha to let the same thing happen to her. No. Instead, she would say one last form of encouragement.

'I trust you.' Angela uttered. 'And I love you beyond words.'

Fareeha grinned at this, touching Angela's head and encircling her face with her strong hand.

'I'll be back to tell you the same. Until then, stay hidden here and safe, my princess.'

'…Come. There's no time.' Widow hissed, although Angela hardly felt as though she was irritated by Angela and Fareeha directly. Perhaps a sense of personal longing pushed her over the edge. In any case, she wasn't wrong, and Fareeha released Angela, her and Widow descending a staircase around the corner of cover to confront one of the – perhaps even _the_ – leader of Talon.

'How much longer will you delay the inevitable, Winston? Your soldiers die around you, your good doctor is seconds away from death, and your base is compromised beyond salvation. You've lost. I doubt a barrier of this nature will prevent your death beyond the hour. Stop wasting our time. I'm a busy machine. Surely, the rest of Overwatch shall return soon enough, and I was truly looking forward to their expressions upon finding their beacons of hope dead.'

Angela waited with bated breath, her chest growing tighter with every painful, drawn out second that passed. Fareeha was about to risk it all. Surely she knew this. The terror Angela had seen upon her face was clear enough. Nothing was really known about Nemesis. What was he capable of? Was there even a point in Fareeha and Widow trying? If Fareeha was hurt, could Angela stay hidden so that she alone would survive? No. Even then, she would only live a little longer. She would be found, and…

The doctor's eyes widened when she peeked around the opening to the bridge herself. A slender, unmistakable individual peeled herself away from behind Nemesis' larger form. Moira O'Deorain. They had broken her out of holding. Damn it. If Talon managed to get her back, what kind of progress had Overwatch actually made? They were always two to three steps behind Talon, chasing an entity that had U.N. backing while they could only pick up the scraps from leaders who were forced to slide money under the table as conservatively as possible. The odds remained stacked, this current standoff a perfect mirror of the ongoing struggle. It wasn't like before. It would never be like the glory days of the past. Overwatch was battered and bruised, raising a fist against Goliath with not even a slingshot at ready.

Angela wasn't prepared for that very comparison to be presented to her in its entirety the moment Fareeha and Widow launched their attack. They waited for Nemesis to begin talking again, his somewhat theatrical way of speaking making him appear more vulnerable than he potentially was, his sleek, overly human features imposing as he snapped into combat, parrying bullets from Fareeha's gun and snickering audibly.

'Very good, Overwatch. This is the demonstration I was hoping for.' He claimed, taking on a wide stance not completely unlike Doomfist, not a weapon beyond his arms and legs seemingly present. 'Winston! A traitor and whelp contest me while you hole up in a cave? What does that say about your organization's current leadership?'

Despite it all; despite the horror of what was surely about to take place, Angela admired Fareeha (and even Widow) for their bravery. They circled Nemesis, keeping a fair distance from the strange omnic/human hybrid, their guns at ready. They were truly incredible, and Angela wished, for once in her life, she was more capable of fighting herself.

'Leave all of Overwatch to me, Talon. One by one they will fall by my hand. I am the perfect being! The pinnacle of science! The God Program incarnated!'

The ice shattered around the communication tower in an ear-piercingly sharp sound, and Winston leapt out of the building, roaring as loud as he could and burning red, his eyes electrifying and the undeniable anger blistering off his body.

'Heh. Finally. Now, we shall – '

Nemesis couldn't complete his thought, Winston tackling the machine, slamming him into the ground and pounding him over and over again with his enormous, monstrous fists. It was a seeming chain reaction from that point, for a barrage of missiles littered the battlefield immediately thereafter, and Hana's mech entered the fray, scattering the average agents of Talon until she landed, unloading a sea of bullets into the group, forcing them back until the black omnics perked up, making a move toward the young woman and her incredible machine.

However, Winston's massive form flew across the sky, cushioned only by a slope of ice Mei expertly created, the pudgy doctor panicked as she cradled the primate, obviously distraught by the violence. Lucio also appeared out of the tower, likely unsure of how to contribute to such a fight effectively, considering Winston had just been launched so high.

'Such power…' Nemesis stood up within the miniature crater Winston had helped create. 'But ultimately futile.' He turned to the black omnics slowly making their way to Dva. 'Stop. Did you not hear me? I alone will plummet Overwatch into destruction.'

'They struggle with reason.' Moira contributed coldly, making Angela's skin crawl.

'Ah, yes. Feral beasts, as it were. Very well.' Nemesis dashed in between the three black omnics and…Angela couldn't follow what happened next. It was instantaneous. All three titan-class omnics crumbled into pieces, pulsating black matter strewn about their remains like organs and muscle tissue. A triad of machines the combined might of Overwatch could barely handle a third of. Yes. Angela wasn't wrong when fear had clutched her heart upon hearing this "omnic" speak for the first time. Nemesis was capable of complete annihilation. What on earth was he? Where had he been created? The God Program? Was there more to it than being a mere virus of some form?

'Collect the remnants after as needed. They can always be rebuilt.' Nemesis readied himself before Dva and her mech, clenching his fists dramatically.

'Final boss, huh?' Dva said aloud, confident but a touch of tentativeness in her voice. 'Okay. Let's do this!'

She was much smarter than she would lead others to believe. Dva kept her distance, initiating her shield matrix between litters of bullets, dashing about the area and evading with top-tier piloting skills. She wasn't Korea's best for nothing, and she proved it before all of what remained of Overwatch.

Yet, Nemesis not only had power, but speed as well, and he was constantly closing in on Hana and her mech, grabbing at its limbs and managing to tear off an arm, halving Dva's output of power effectively. She squeaked in frustration, but continued the fight bravely, an incredible display of defensive and offensive maneuvers belying her flippant mannerisms in most social situations.

'Hana! Pin him!' Fareeha called out after some time.

It was a risky proposition, but it made the most sense. If anyone could succeed at it beyond Winston, Dva and her mech were the next best option. Getting close enough to do such a thing would be problematic, nonetheless, and Hana's M.E.K.A. was already missing a limb. Still, she awaited the right opportunity, and when she made her move, Lucio seemed to react in kind, boosting Mei to the omnic's position, the young woman blasting cold air all over Nemesis, his movements slowed enough for Widow to make a shot, filling the machine's head full of bullets. Amongst the chaos, Sombra appeared in a veil of violet light, taking hold of the twitching Nemesis' head directly, her whole body convulsing as she presumably began the hack.

Nemesis attempted to flail, incoherent sounds blitzing from his mechanized voice, but the combined might of Overwatch had him, and the remnants of the Talon assault were being held at gunpoint, from what Angela could tell, McCree himself leading a small band of leftover Overwatch agents alongside Torbjorn and his mobile turret squad.

'Ugh…!' Sombra groaned, a seldomly shown discomfort overcoming the girl, her hands glowing red and veins protruding from her neck.

It was the end, presumably. Angela made her way down the stairs and crept around the corner of the building next to the communication tower, eyeing Winston's downed form and contemplating making her way to it so that she could begin immediate first aid. Once Nemesis was completely dealt with, she would make her move. Fareeha caught her eye, however, and flicked her head upward, a glare upon her visage. She still felt it was dangerous. Ever overly cautious.

'Jesus…! This network is a damn maze…!' Sombra yelled through grit teeth.

'Make yourself useful!' Widow chastised, and this only brought a pained grin over Sombra's expression.

'Easy for you to say, Spider…!'

A burst of energy scattered the group, and Nemesis seemingly teleported around the area, one by one dealing with the agents that had dared defied him. Inhuman noises crackled from his channel, and it was like something out of a horror film, Angela's burning eyes incapable of comprehending the brutality of his attacks. Lucio, Mei, Sombra, Dva, and even Widow – who managed to delay the monstrous omnic for but a second – toppled to the side, her neck sliced clean open and only her hands available to try and hold the blood in. By the time Angela's brain processed the death closing in around her, Nemesis was an inch in front of her, steam emanating from his body, the heat of his systems overloading practically burning the material that made up Angela's clothes.

Her body was like lead, her head weighing a tonne as she attempted to look up at the machine, his singular lens like the eye of a cyclops bearing into her soul, lifting his spasming, blood-covered hand just as slowly.

It was as she thought. Just as she feared. This being was Death quantified.

'Hng…!' Fareeha was in front of her, both arms shattered by Nemesis and her scream burning Angela's mind. The omnic throttled her knight's neck, lifting her up and readying the deathblow. Not again. Not again! Not again!

The world froze. And yet, it didn't. Nemesis became still. Fareeha collapsed on the ground, and the machine simply…stopped.

'Another failure…' Moira could be heard in the silence, stepping toward the outer rim of the cape Overwatch Gibraltar rested on and leaping off the ledge, the distant sound of an aircraft of some kind distancing itself from the base. Angela couldn't be sure. She didn't care. Her mind was still piecing it all together. They had survived…barely. No. Many were dying. Some were already dead. Angela's legs shook, giving out from under her. She knew what had to be done, but for once, she hesitated. How much more time could she give? How much more was she willing to?

A soft touch to the back of her neck. A tender, familiar, loving graze.

Angela's tear-filled eyes looked to the woman next to her, a fatigued yet relieved gaze returning the contact made. Then, resolve mixed with agony.

'I'll…help you.' Fareeha whispered solemnly. 'You need to…' Her lip twitched, but her bravery remained evermore. 'You need to save them all, my angel.'


	77. LXXVII: Tracer

Tracer

Overwatch Gibraltar was in the horizon when they saw it. The whole ship filled with light, almost similar to the whiteness that had nearly blinded everyone when the black omnics self-destructed in Rialto. When the golden-hued beam concentrated back overtop of the base and was sucked into, presumably, its original source, Jack was the first to say anything, his voice low and full of contemplation.

'That damned woman…' He uttered, and Lena looked around desperately, seeing Reinhardt and Ana were the only other agents with similar reactions.

'What the bloody hell was that?' She ventured to ask, the newer members of Overwatch equally perplexed.

There was a heavy pause, which rarely boded well for what came next.

'I want to be wrong, but I doubt it.' Jack started, still sighing as he explained. 'Hard to forget what that kind of sight means.'

'Hope. It always meant hope for victory.' Ana added.

'But I thought…it wasn't possible anymore.' Reinhardt said as well.

'Obviously, it was still in within her power, but…we might know better now _why_ she refused to bring forth that level of ability.'

Lena waited, but nothing was confirmed, and communication was finally linked up with Overwatch Gibraltar again, Athena's voice coming through the aircraft's speakers. Static remained prevalent still, remnants of the damage done to the base's mainframe lingering, but it was undoubtedly and authentically Athena.

"Overwatch Gibraltar is now clear. Requesting system calibration and check. Agent Angela Ziegler in critical health. Vitals fading. Estimated life-expectancy: twenty-four hours. Forty agent fatalities. Thirty-eight injured. Beginning system purge."

'W-what…?' Lena whispered.

'I knew it.' Jack hissed.

'Damn them!' Reinhardt hollered, practically shaking the plane.

"Whoa. Hey, there." McCree came on the line suddenly, and Lena swallowed, hoping there wasn't worse news. "Athena sure doesn't mince words, huh?"

'What the hell happened?' Jack grunted.

"Like we thought; Talon was all over this place when I got here. Dva did her thing and pretty much got the job done while I rounded up a bunch of hooligans on my side. But I'll give you the tiny version fer now."

Lena forced herself to swallow again. So many deaths. Who was among them? Was Winston? Was…Amelie?

"Some super omnic thing callin' himself Nemesis showed up and wrecked our crew. Hired a bunch of criminals to help him do it, too. Took out a lotta folk, like Athena said. The big hitters all had a near-fatal beating except fer me and…yeah, Angela. So, you can guess what happened from there, right?"

'She mass "revived" who she could in one fell swoop.' Jack elaborated in a hushed tone.

"Bingo." A deep exhale. "Saved em' all. Every single one. Whoever wasn't dead – even if they were just barely clingin' to life – got back up. That girl…she ain't human, I tell ya."

'Unbelievable…' Ana breathed.

"Looked real rough gettin' carried to what's left of the medical ward. Fareeha was pale as a ghost and Angela…"

'We'll be back to base within the hour. Tell Winston to begin the process of relocating. We're abandoning Gibraltar as soon as humanly possible. Enough of this. No more.' Jack was angry. He always sounded on the brink of losing it, but he was especially aggravated now.

'S-she'll be fine, right? It's Angela we're talking about! Hahah!' Lena tried. She really did. But even she was well aware of the futility of her plight. Angela wasn't going to be okay. Not at this rate. It didn't take a genius to read between the silent rhetoric in the aircraft.

That brutal quiet? It didn't let up until the aircraft landed, the still smoking Overwatch Gibraltar in shambles, and everything Lena had known about the place turned inside out.

* * *

The cleanup involved was nothing short of taxing. Lena couldn't say she minded removing rubble and dangerous obstacles from clear view throughout the base, but by far the most trying task was collecting the dead and identifying them systematically. Jack and Ana took charge of this grueling job, fortunately, but Lena assisted with the transportation of the corpses, and it ripped at her heart, causing even the sun of Overwatch to struggle with any form of optimism. Zenyatta made the calls to families to inform them of the unfortunate passing of said agents, and when the voice of an "omnic" wouldn't suffice, Winston or Jack himself would need to step in to calm the, understandably, hysterical wife, husband, mother, father, brother, sister, or child.

It took hours to get Overwatch Gibraltar even relatively livable again, with large portions of the base (like Angela and Fareeha's living quarters, for example) completely destroyed beyond repair for quite some time. Fortunately, there were some smaller spare rooms similar to Widow's that could be utilized for most, and despite some individuals having to share a bed, it was far better than nothing. Even the primary sector of the medical ward, where many beds could be found, suffered only minor trauma, and recovering agents, like those caught up in Nemesis' final tirade, had a space to heal, with any remaining doctors and nurses on duty ready to serve.

When everything was said and done with all immediate demands related to making Overwatch Gibraltar semi-functional again, Lena made her way to that very sector of the base, poking her head in with a tray of hot beverages. She waved at the collection of agents with their curtains open, and noted the lack of Amelie, despite her file's update stating her neck had been gashed severely. Winston, however, was present, and was seemingly making his own rounds, shuffling through the tiny space and offering his apologies to the various agents, calling them all by their names without missing a beat. Lena decided to do much of the same, offering the drinks to those who accepted her act of kindness and eventually meeting up with her large friend outside the sizable room, sighing in relief to find the big guy fairly healthy, all things considered.

'Don't bloody scare me like that again, Mister!' Lena gave Winston a light jab, thankful she could tease the monkey after everything that had happened.

'I know. I'm sorry. It was…a difficult attack. I was foolish to think any kind of heightened security would keep Talon out if they truly wanted to infiltrate the base. Their resources are…so much vaster than ours.'

Lena could see the hurt and regret in her friend's kind eyes. He was shouldering the burden all on his own, which couldn't be fair in the slightest.

'Don't you dare blame yourself, Winston.' Lena chastised seriously. 'We're a team, and all of us went forward with the mission and this base's state together. Like you said, we're _still_ getting a proper handle on what Talon is all about, and it's kinda an uphill battle, wouldn't you say?'

'Yeah…But this feeling in my stomach isn't going anywhere soon.'

'And that's what separates us from the bad guys.'

Winston seemed to smile at that, the hair all about his body still a little worse for wear. He smelled a little, too, which meant he hadn't had a chance to bathe or anything for quite some time.

'Jack wants to relocate.' Lena decided to say, following her friend outside the medical ward and traversing some narrow halls with him.

'It's the right call. This base was mostly ideal for its somewhat hidden location and naturally formidable terrain, but Talon has hit it twice now, this most recent attack doing a number on…well…almost everything. We'd be foolish _not_ to try and make a move of some kind. However, without open U.N. support, things do not look so great. I'm not sure what Jack's thinking, but it's not a simple matter of upping and leaving like that; not an operation this size.'

'Right…'

Winston ruffled Lena's hair, shrugging nonchalantly.

'But we'll get through it somehow. We always do…'

'Yeah.'

Winston and Lena exited the hall, rounding a corner and making it into the large loading bay in the near centre of the base. Agents were working overtime and hard to manage the mess Talon had made still but, fortunately, some form of rest seemed to be on the horizon. Lucio was providing fantastic music for the entire area, his melodies as soothing as ever, as though they truly had unseen perks that allowed the soul to naturally find peace and healing. He waved happily to Lena and Winston from a distance, and it was nice to see the man was fairing well considering Nemesis had apparently torn a large piece out of his side.

'Is Angela taking visitors yet?' Lena thought to ask, although part of her was begging to know where a certain other woman was at this point.

'…No. None. Fareeha is with her, but she is refusing any other guests.'

'Whoa. Really?'

'Yes. She's stable, for now, but Athena's calculations weren't terribly far off.'

'Meaning…?' Lena held her breath.

'Days.' Winston answered carefully. 'Although I'm holding out hope for her. She's pulled through this sort of thing in the past recently enough, right?'

Lena could tell Winston was hiding something. He was attempting to be optimistic, but it wasn't taking. There was more to the story than he was elaborating upon. McCree sounded as though he was about to say something before Jack interrupted him as well. Lena supposed she could wait and see, which was something she would admit she was just terrible at. To distract herself a little more adequately, Lena finally asked about the one person she refused to all day.

'Any idea where Amelie is?'

Winston allowed a smirk, but that was all. He was a kind individual.

'Athena has been keeping tabs on everyone, including our new guests that go by creative names like Roadhog and Junkrat. They're not talking too much yet, but we got them in holding, alongside some other Talon agents until we can transfer them over to the proper authorities.'

'Now, if only Moira was still in our care, huh?'

'Don't remind me…'

'Pretty daft trade off, I'd say.'

'That's putting it lightly.'

A small pause as the duo made it closer to the communication tower, the craters and cracked flooring all around them a constant reminder of the damage that had been done in such a short amount of time. Winston turned almost completely, pointing up at the large spherical structure near the edge of one of the buildings.

'She's there.'

Lena's heart gave a leap.

'Okay…'

'Go see her. She's been…quiet since the fight. Although, I guess that's not completely abnormal.'

'Heh. True enough.'

'I'll talk to you later.'

'For sure.'

Lena took her time getting up the multiple flights of stairs, wondering exactly what she would say to Amelie Lacroix. They hadn't been apart for _that_ long, but the conversation they had left on carried enough weight to make one another's absence feel like days. Where did they go from here exactly? What was the best course of action? The answers in relation to Widowmaker had never been clear; so, why would they start coming easily now?

Lena dug her hands into her hair and ruffled it about, squinting through the nearly set sun's rays and finding Widow sitting precisely where Winston had indicated, her legs pulled in against her chest and her dark hair tied into a loose ponytail flowing a little behind her head, bangs lining her dark, sultry eyes as she stared off into the distance.

She looked bloody beautiful.

'Heya…' Lena squeaked, her voice sounding ridiculous to her.

Amelie didn't turn for a moment, forcing Lena to nearly repeat herself, but then she closed her eyes, breathing out slowly and shaking her head just a touch.

'Welcome back.' She answered softly, and Lena's whole body tightened.

'Glad you're okay, Luv. Sorry I wasn't here to help…'

'I'm a big girl.' Widow peeled herself away from where she sat, sliding down and landing before the time traveler, a white, loose, sleeveless shirt tucked into flowing black pants. Lena looked away. She had texted Emily just before landing, telling her she would be fine, but somehow she still felt guilt being in this situation.

'Heh. Clearly. Heard you even stopped Nemesis for a sec. That's gotta mean something.'

'Quite. That is…a moment before he did this.' Widow angled her neck to the side, showing a fairly prominent scar stretching across it. The mark was a light shade of blue, and seemed painful still.

'Yikes!'

'I suspected it was the end, to be completely honest.' Amelie sighed, smiling painfully. 'But that woman…that otherworldly being saved me again.' She turned, looking out onto the ocean once more, enunciating every word with care. 'I owe her too much.'

'We all do, Luv. It's just what Ange does.'

'At the cost of her own life? _No_. I think not.'

'Did you…see something?' Lena asked, and Widow crossed her arms, still staring off toward the horizon.

'It was only a glimpse, and perhaps the light or my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I saw…white hair and…withered skin.'

'Jesus…!'

'Nanomachines, were they? I suspect her age suspension has not only caught up with her, but has accelerated severely as well. She pushed herself beyond human limits, and now, her very body is rejecting her.'

It made sense, from what Lena knew. Massively "reviving" so many from the edge of death? The recoil must have been just as demanding as the miraculous feat itself.

'Fareeha's with her.' Lena said dumbly, not sure what else to add.

'Yes. She is with her lover, at the very least.'

A small pause, and Lena blinked, looking around a little as she wondered what to say next. Surprisingly, Amelie restarted the conversation, her tone quieter than before.

'May I stay with you tonight?' She asked simply, but it almost made Lena fall over.

'Oh. Right. Your room is messed up.'

Widow met Lena's eyes, the gaze deep and powerful.

'I want to be with you. It's as simple as that.'

'U-uh…'

'It's my turn to be selfish, understand?'

'I…don't know if that's a good idea.' Lena grimaced.

'It may not be.' Widow affirmed, and it only caused more confusion. 'However, so long as you behave, all shall be well.'

'I can do that.' Lena told herself.

'I know.' Her torturer giggled lightly. 'Let us walk. It is getting late, and I am fatigued.'

Lena nodded, following Widow as she moved through the base, her confidence and presence as a whole completely different now. Overwatch agents looked upon her with awe now primarily; not fear. Widowmaker had fought against Talon with all her might yet again, and not only that, had possibly killed Reaper and stopped Nemesis for a time. She was ascending to a new form of legendary status, and it was nice to see some agents even dare to greet the woman, the men especially willing to give her a subtle once over as she passed by, her figure somehow more distracting in such casual clothing.

Lena tried not to stare, but she was only human, and a quick glance at Amelie's curves didn't hurt anybody, did it? No. That wasn't fair to Emily. She needed to be strong. Triggering her desires was _not_ a smart move whatsoever.

Widow led herself and Lena to the room, damage still surrounding the area somewhat, but Lena's living space not terribly compromised. She leaned against the door, crossing her arms and grinning slyly. How she had changed. How far they had come in such a short amount of time. At the end of the day, Lena could at least pat herself on the back for helping this former assassin find her humanity again. She had the chance to enjoy life at last; a life she had ripped wrongfully from her grasp.

'Overwatch is moving their base, correct?' Widow said suddenly and strangely. What did that have to do with anything now?

'Uh…yeah. Not sure where yet, but it's a thing.'

She glanced to the side, a silent contemplation about her since Lena first lay eyes on her this day. What was she thinking? Would Lena ever really know? This mystery…was intoxicating. It always has been. It was a drug. An addiction. Lena couldn't help but want more, and now Widow was more than aware of the effect she had on the poor girl. She was cruel. Even now, simply blocking Lena playfully; it was painful.

'You will continue the fight?'

It was a simple question with an obvious answer. Why ask at all?

'Of course, Luv. I gotta.'

'You do. Fighting alongside Overwatch…it suits you.'

A panic filled Lena's lungs then. She couldn't place its source, but something nagged at her eagerly.

'Suits you, too, you know?'

'…Perhaps.' Amelie answered wistfully.

'A-and you owe it to us, right? I mean…you're so strong. Overwatch needs you.' It was awful to say, and the anxiety was only building in Lena's stomach.

'Heh. Indeed. More killing. More…fighting.'

Lena bit at her lip, and Amelie simply lifted her shoulders in dismissal, stepping to the side. There was more to say, but it scared Lena, and thus, she gained access to her living quarters and tapped away at her phone, submitting her withdrawal for the day. Athena confirmed the request, and Lena placed the device on the table, flicking on the tiny dining room light above the stove.

'May I watch some television?' Widow asked curiously.

'Course, Luv. Go for it.'

'Wine and snack food of some form would be ideal as well.'

'Now you're just being demanding.'

'Heh. Indeed, I am.'

Lena couldn't say she minded. She was smiling, she realized, as she noted Widow in her peripheral vision seating herself on the couch and starting up one of her silly soap operas. Lena flipped through her cupboards, obtaining the rare wine glasses she _did_ have and began putting together a small dish of crackers, grapes, and cheese. She had picked up the variety rather recently, aware that Widow enjoyed such "nutritious" finger foods. Lena sort of liked the combination of tastes herself, if she were to be honest.

The sound of the television. The silent presence in the other room. The sexual tension. Lena missed this so much. She paused, went to her phone, and messaged Emily, telling her she'd be visiting soon.

'Tell her I say "good evening".' Widow requested, making Lena almost drop her device.

'Er…right. I can do that.'

"Really? That'd be great! I've been missing you pretty hard."

Lena breathed out slowly, and wrote more, her thumbs shaking as she did so.

"Amelie's here with me. Base was attacked. Her room was destroyed. Bloody crazy, right?"

It was a delayed reply for Emily. She was usually quite quick.

"Gotcha. Hope everyone is okay. Take care of her."

Lena grimaced, answering swiftly.

"Lost quite a few agents, but nobody you know of. Still terrible. And will do."

A blip in time.

"I love you."

Lena's turn to pause.

"I love you, too."

She exhaled in an effort to control her emotions. She just needed to keep herself in check. Simple. Lena poured the wine and brought the glasses to Widow, returning to the kitchen in order to retrieve the snacks. She was seated soon thereafter, her t-shirt heavy and shorts uncomfortable.

Amelie, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine, and sipped her wine gracefully, stacking some cheese atop a cracker and chewing purposefully. She appeared engrossed in her program, the flickering lights from the television illuminating her dark face dramatically.

Lena took a sip, unable to understand what was happening in the show, but noting the way two of the characters began kissing suddenly in what appeared to be a hospital room. A nurse? No. A relative? What on earth?

'Hmph. Adequately performed.' Widow evaluated, her eyes shifting.

'I still can't get over the fact you like this stuff.'

A short laugh for an immediate response.

'It's positively ridiculous, I will admit as much. But there's also something to be said about the raw, unfiltered emotions on display as well. In a single sitting, one is taken for a ride that is unparalleled due to the performances of the characters in question. It isn't so unlike dance, I suppose, although my art requires much more talent.'

'Whoa! Cocky! Hahah!' Although Lena appreciated hearing Widow talk so much for once.

'I'm merely stating the truth. It takes years, and years, and years of training to perform the way I and my colleagues could. Hours, and hours, and hours of rehearsing to present a veil of perfection to our audiences all throughout France. Eventually, I travelled internationally, and the barrier of language – despite its decline due to technology – was hardly a rub, for my motions spoke universally, and I could _see_ the individuals in the auditorium swooning with admiration, sadness, fear, anger, and adoration.'

'Did Gerard travel with you to all the shows?'

Widow took another sip of her wine, letting her lips linger on the edge of the glass, a touch of her saliva remaining where she left the clear material.

'In the beginning, he was the epitome of dedication to my craft. It's how we met, after all.' She smiled distantly; woefully.

'In the beginning, huh?'

A beat, with only the heated argument developing in the show before them adding words to the blank slate inserted.

'…He was a good man, Lena Oxton. Just as you are a good woman.'

This bit into Lena's pride, but she accepted the blow willingly, listening to Amelie go on.

'He had his imperfections, as we all do, but I hardly fault him for it. He cared about me, at the end of it all, and despite notions of infidelity due to his unrestrained passions, I have chosen to remember him for all the good he brought to my life.' Widow finished her glass, eyeing the droplet of wine remaining. 'You and he…so different, yet so similar. Life is a comedy of errors, surely.'

Lena chuckled hesitantly.

'You might not be so wrong about that…'

Widow seemed to wait for more, and when Lena failed to deliver, she handed her the remote with a daring look.

'Show me something you would like to watch, Lena.'

'Huh?'

'Is it such a difficult task? If you were alone, what would you ideally be viewing at this time?'

'I don't really watch a lot of television, I guess. But I throw this kind of stuff on in the background when I'm poking around my room and whatever.' Lena changed the station to a comedy network, with one of her favourite shows playing. It was something of a prank series that went around to public areas and put everyday people into compromising situations.

'I like it when they have stand-up comedians, but this stuff's not so bad either.'

'Heh. I'm not terribly surprised.' Widow gave Lena a nudge with her shoulder, staying dangerously close afterward. 'You have a charming laugh. Evidently it has been thoroughly trained.'

'Hahah! Maybe!' Lena blushed. Amelie was acting _so_ different. Like, not out of character or anything, but just so much more vocal with her thoughts. It…was brutal. How was Lena supposed to react, exactly?

Widow stood up, went to the kitchen, and refilled her wine, swirling it elegantly as she sat back down to her original position, one leg over the other like the ideal woman. She observed the program with intrigue, humming at a funny moment inwardly when the focussed-on prank was executed without a hitch.

'I see. The human element of this show carries a level of intrigue for me. How will they react? Why, even the omnics know not what to do in some instances. Riveting.'

'It's…just dumb background noise…' Lena mumbled.

'Hardly. Spreading joy, no matter what the methods, should never be undervalued. You, of all people, should understand that.'

'I'm really not all that. I just…'

'No matter the reasons, you brought light back into _my_ life, Lena Oxton, and for that, I will forever be grateful.'

Another agonizing pause, and Lena finally turned to look at Amelie; really look at her. She didn't try to hide it, and Widow simply drank more of her wine, touching her own cheek gently and retracting the hand slowly. She then placed the wine glass down, turned off the television in one motion, and looked back at Lena, her sharp gaze ever intimidating yet alluring at once.

Lena parted her lips to say something – anything – but couldn't manage even that. Again, it was almost as if Amelie was waiting for her to change both their fates.

With a saddened expression of resolution, Amelie sighed, inching closer upon the couch and placing a hand in the space between Lena's legs.

'Don't move an inch, Lena.' She whispered with a small shake to her voice. Then, a moment later, she was kissing her neck, and Lena's whole body tensed, goosebumps littering her skin. She did as she was told, and Widow stretched her shirt so she could trail her perfect kisses to Lena's collar; to her shoulder. Her hand moved inches from Lena's groin to her right thigh, trailing within the lining of her yellow panties and teasing the heat within.

'Hah…' Lena exhaled, her brain muddled.

'Don't move. Don't react. Don't touch me back. Don't…' Widow's voice faded, and she pushed up into Lena's shirt, massaging her breasts and encircling her hardened form. She lifted the material over Lena's head and carefully undid her chronal accelerator, handling it with intense affection before placing it down amongst their wine and snacks, both glasses empty.

'You're a beautiful girl, Lena Oxton.' Widow said to her skin, kissing, kissing, kissing her all over, and moving to her chest, nibbling ever so slightly in just the right places and with the desired rhythm. 'Never forget that.'

Lena clenched her eyes shut. The pit in her stomach was only growing alongside the lust fueling her veins. Amelie…What was happening?

She positioned herself between Lena's legs, pulling her shorts to the ground and rubbing her thighs in preparation. Soon, Amelie's dexterous fingers were pressing against the dampness before her, and then she pulled it to the side, kissing Lena again and again and again, pushing her tongue in deep and touching Lena's heart with a knife.

'A-ah…' Lena gasped.

'Shhh.' Widow urged, her hands navigating Lena's body and holding it, caressing it, remembering it. She was too good at this. It was as though she were reading Lena's mind. She wasn't going to last. It was a blur of sexual intensity, and just as Lena felt her stomach prickling, Widow stopped, stood up, and provocatively lifted her own shirt above her head, arms crossed over one another and stripping it off as though she was some form of professional seductress.

Lena knew it was wrong. She knew she was making a horrible mistake. But something urged her forward. Something she didn't understand but struggled to all evening gave her allowance. She couldn't argue. Certainly not anymore.

Amelie leaned in, pressing her breasts against Lena's, rubbing them over her body while gripping them with her own hands, using her pointed tips to tickle Lena's skin. It was overwhelming. She felt like she was drowning in emotions that weren't hers. Widow pressed her knee against Lena's groin, grabbing hold of her backside and making Lena grind against her. Her panties tightened against her womanhood, and she winced, clutching her mouth shut and feeling her neck tensing with arousal.

Widow pushed Lena down onto the couch then, mercifully stripping her underwear off and shuffling her own pants to her ankles, kicking them to the floor before pressing into Lena, her bare body firm and curvaceous. Widow hadn't been wearing anything underneath. Lena could feel her swollen form mixing with her own. She angled herself masterfully, their legs entangled and the sweat beginning to cascade over Lena's entirety.

'Ung…! A-ah…hah…A-Amelie…' Lena wheezed, her voice high.

'No. Don't.' Amelie only said, finally kissing Lena so deeply she drowned further into the abyss. Full lips. Passionate embrace. Naked intimacy. Amelie prided herself on the emotions she used to have. The feelings she once depicted for thousands were taken in by Lena, and she couldn't answer them.

She wasn't permitted to.

Amelie slowly, willfully pulled away from Lena, staring at her with eyes swimming in tears. She gave a grin, and touched Lena's face, shaking her head, as if warning Lena to still not move, and then began rocking, riding Lena's body and grinding with her until Lena's mouth hung open and she had to cover it with her hands, groaning stopping in her throat. Widow reached behind herself and continued to push Lena further. Further. Further. She was inside her again, reaching deep, forcing Lena into ecstasy.

It was so different from anything before. This was raw, unfiltered, honest affection being given to her, and it made Lena want to sob like a child. She almost did. She was seconds from both forms of release. It was an eruption of lunacy and bliss, and Lena screamed into her hands, her hips twitching, and her feet pushing into the side of her couch.

'Jesus…! Oh, bloody hell…!' Lena moaned.

Widow covered her mouth again with her gorgeous lips, and she hummed as they danced, holding Lena's neck with one hand. Then two. And the grip only tightened.

'Gah…! A-Ame…!'

' _Goodbye, Lena. I'll never forget you._ '

* * *

The next day, Lena was told Widowmaker – Amelie Lacroix – had disappeared without a trace.


	78. LXXVIII: Pharah

Pharah

It was like walking her to her grave. Hands gripping her sore, still-recovering arm, she was shaking. She was scared. It made everything a little simpler. Just a little. This woman, who had been, at one point, more than willing to give everything – everything including her life – for those who were suffering, hesitated. She hesitated because, presumably, she had so much more to live for now. If she were to be believed, the source of her selfish desires rested in the same girl who escorted her to the perfect point and allowed her to summon every ounce of power remaining to her.

It was at once beautiful and simultaneously heart-shattering.

The holy light enveloped her, drained her of every fibre of life within, and distributed the force to those who were suffering, Death lurking so close.

She withered almost instantly. If Fareeha's heart had been torn from her chest and ripped in half before her, she wouldn't have been shocked. It felt like that very thing had occurred despite the warmth embracing her as well in an effort to restore the lingering pains her body retained.

Yet, it could do no such thing.

The agony Fareeha felt in that moment couldn't be described. It was doubled with the knowledge that she had put her love through a similar experience. Perhaps it was the world's way of balancing the supernatural phenomena that was Mercy of Overwatch.

* * *

It was the following day that Fareeha finally excused herself from her lady's side in an attempt to retrieve some form of nutrition for the two of them. Angela wished to be alone save for her knight's company. While Fareeha felt some semblance of pride at the honour, the fact Angela had given in to her final hours was almost too much to bear. What could Fareeha do? She had asked the question until her throat bled.

Nothing. It was the only answer provided. Angela knew what she had done. Fareeha had personally encouraged the decision in an incompetent flash of justice and charity. Her Angela for Overwatch. Her Angela for the world. Her Angela for the _chance_ of beating Talon. It was madness.

Nothing was worth her Angela's life. Nothing.

But Angela herself didn't feel that way, and after everything they had been through, Fareeha knew her too well to even attempt to dissuade her. This was why she had fallen in love with the doctor, after all. One of the many, many reasons. Her selflessness was blinding. Fareeha _still_ couldn't look upon it or even come close to comparing.

She had chosen to depart for breakfast early in the day, hoping to miss most of the regular traffic around base. This was almost laughable, because nothing was normal anymore. The base was compromised in too many places, and a multitude of workers put in overtime in an effort to restore the finer points of the station. Still, it was quiet enough until Fareeha felt a blur bump into her, not even realizing someone was close beyond a flicker of blue light tipping off the corner of her eye.

'W-whoa! Sorry, Luv…Um…Oi! F-Fareeha?'

Tracer. The legend herself looking ever so human suddenly. They were mirror images of one another. Both worse for wear and weighed down by heartbroken burdens. Fareeha could feel the link immediately, and she grasped onto this version of reality, still praying she'd awaken from the nightmare at any moment.

'Is everything alright?' She asked, wondering if she had always sounded so…meek.

'Uh…not really.' Lena answered, her accent thick. 'Amelie – Widowmaker – is…well, apparently she's gone. Like, up and out of the base? M-maybe Athena is still messed up from the Nemesis attack or whatever, right? Could be a thing. I-I'm just…looking for her, I guess.'

Fareeha nodded slowly, her head so capable of just tumbling off her neck, it seemed.

'Oh! But…you know, is Ange seeing anybody? Are you okay? Can I do anything for you at all?'

So human. Not invincible. Not an intangible legend. Just another human willing to put it all on the line for others. To be a hero. To save someone who would have sooner killed her on sight.

'I will be fine. But no, she refuses any visitors still.'

'…Really? But what if…?'

Did she know? Was she aware of how hopeless it all seemed? Obviously, it couldn't be hidden from Athena, but still…

'We'll contact everyone if the situation changes.'

It would've been too easy if Lena gave in then, and there's no way she could have helped _the_ Widowmaker the way she had if she was so weak-willed. Fareeha still admired this young woman, even if she was only adding to the pain with the following accusations.

'Amelie said she saw Ange's hair turn white and her skin – '

Fareeha lifted her hand, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

'Please. Don't.'

'But if Ange is gonna…y-you know, shouldn't we be there…?'

'She's an adult woman. She should be allowed this liberty after everything she's done for those around her.'

'No! She's our friend! Our comrade! We care about her!'

'She's aware, but…it's what she wants.' Fareeha remained steadfast, hating what she was enforcing, but the wishes of her princess all she had left. 'I need to go. She's hungry, and I've delayed enough. I'm sorry.'

Fareeha left Lena behind her, hearing the girl curse about something before zipping off in continuation of her search. She didn't want to run into anyone else from the upper Overwatch ranks, but Fareeha supposed it may be inevitable. She had to steel herself for Angela. There simply wasn't much time remaining. Tears could come later. For now, she had to ensure the angel of Overwatch was comfortable for what was waiting for them both.

Fareeha supposed it could have been shock, for she was somewhat surprised by how little she had cried since finding out about Angela's condition. Perhaps she still had faith the amazing doctor would pull through somehow. Perhaps she was already in shock. It wasn't impossible. She had seen many a Helix soldier become hopelessly numb from the horrors the God program could orchestrate. Numb and completely incapable going forward. Would Fareeha become like that, too? Without Angela in her life…

No. She couldn't dwell on the thought. _That_ was asking for trouble. She bit her lip. Hard. It was frightening how much she had to grit her teeth into her flesh to feel something. She didn't want to _feel_ anymore. This fragility in her life was too much as it was.

Entering the cafeteria was a challenge. There were, inevitably, _some_ agents having breakfast, their shift already half over or maybe just starting. Fortunately, the timing was awkward enough that Fareeha spotted only a few before a lone young woman caught her eye, her stout physical appearance standing upright, and her black, practically iconic sleeveless shirt showing off her muscular arms.

Brigitte. She looked exhausted. She had participated in a battle of her own the day before. Shouldn't she have been resting? The girl waved to Fareeha, her eyes indicating that she knew _something_. Fareeha could immediately sense her resolve crumbling. Brigitte was someone she felt intense trust with. Beyond Angela, she had grown very close to the daughter of Torbjorn, and that meant it was so much harder to feign strength when Fareeha's entire world was on the verge of collapsing atop of her.

'Hey!' Brigitte called out, a mass of…something furry in her free arm.

'Hi.' Fareeha wasn't sure if she was frowning or not.

'Um…here.' The other girl lifted the collection of white fur and allowed Fareeha to hold the purring feline. 'Her name is Mitzi. I…uh…use her to calm down when I'm stressed. I know things are tough right now, and there's not a whole lot I can do, but I wanted to at least offer you a second of relaxation.'

It was a kind gesture, and one Fareeha certainly appreciated. Brigitte had revealed earlier in their relationship just how much she loved cats, and this obviously was a thoughtful act Brigitte spent time considering.

'Thanks.' It _was_ somewhat soothing. The vibrations in the animal's body was surprisingly fulfilling, and the way Mitzi pushed her head into Fareeha's hand was nice. Angela seemed somewhat indifferent when it came to animals. Perhaps, when they settled down someday, she would allow Fareeha a dog. They could enjoy nice walks together, and…

'Fareeha?'

'Hah…' Fareeha rubbed her eyes. Idiot. She couldn't think like that. Not anymore. It would ruin her if she did.

'It's okay to cry, you know?'

'She hasn't. I have no right to.' It was true. Angela was the epitome of calm and collected. She accepted her fate. It almost hurt how willing she was to welcome death. She knew. That was all. The moment she reached to the heavens and expelled everything she was, she knew.

'So…it's not good, huh?'

'…No.'

'Man…Papa is working himself into a tizzy. He's crazy upset. I think everyone is. Jack is trying to get plans together for Overwatch, but even he sounds tired.' Brigitte paused, petting Mitzi with Fareeha before taking her hand, her grip incredibly strong and hands full of rough patches.

'I'm here, okay? You don't have to face this alone.'

'…Please stop.' Fareeha begged, but Brigitte only brought her into a tight hug, the cat released to the ground and continuing to rub itself on its owner's legs.

'No way. I know exactly what you're doing. We're too similar. I'm not letting you play the tough girl; not now. Anyone would be dying knowing…knowing they only had so much time left with someone they cared about so much; someone they thought they would have a bunch more years with.'

'You're not helping!' Fareeha shoved her friend away, hating the face Brigitte made in response, but the squire to one of Overwatch's mightiest heroes shrugged, grinning wryly.

'I'm not going anywhere, got it? I'll be here the second you need me. But if you also need some space, it's yours. I've signed up for a mini-vacation so I can be here for you. No missions until I know you're good.'

Fareeha grit her teeth, but then nodded slowly, calming herself. She knew this was a valuable connection. She would be a fool to tarnish it in any way no matter how emotional she was getting.

'Thank-you, Brigitte…' Fareeha mumbled, passing her by and wanting to touch her in some way but not knowing how to do so appropriately. 'I'll…talk to you later.'

'That's a promise.'

* * *

Fareeha stood outside Angela's resting place in the medical ward. She exhaled shakily, staring at the ceiling and praying again she would wake up. After minutes of contemplative silence, she resigned to her fate, and gripped the tray of food, remembering the first time she had done such a thing for this woman. Another life ago. A happier occasion. The humble beginnings of a fierce, unrivaled affection. Ilios. How she longed to return to that time. To that place. Tender memories egged her on, and with a burst of courage, Fareeha was granted access to Angela's room, the dim lights almost masking what her lady had become in order to save Overwatch.

The door slid shut behind Fareeha, and she heard a small sniffle, a strained movement showing Angela wiping her eyes.

'Angela…?'

'Yes…' Her voice. It scratched Fareeha's heart. Old. Pained. Raspy. Weak. Dying.

'I brought some food.'

'My thanks.' Even that. Even something Fareeha had heard so often was foreign. Another age. Another world.

Fareeha stepped through the water, sensing her movements were slow and drugged with agony. She sat herself down, hesitated, and then looked upon Angela Ziegler; or what was left of her.

She was thinner than ever before, skin hanging about her bones as if she were well into her nineties; perhaps even older. Eyes sunken in. Mouth littered with lines. Wrinkles creating mazes all over her face. White, thin hair that was constantly falling off her balding head. Her arms thin. Her body concaved. She was fading. So fast. She hardly moved, and Fareeha noted the touch of water streaming down her blotchy neck, her veins grossly pulsating and practically exploding out of her transparent skin.

And yet, all Fareeha could think about was how much she loved her still, and wanted to hold her tight until she could hold her no more. The tears welled in the Egyptian's eyes when she understood Angela had been crying during her absence, and she held the woman's frail hand, sobbing in restraint.

'My…knight…' Angela uttered, and it was so obviously beyond troublesome for her to even speak.

'Angela…' Fareeha moaned, her vision blurry. 'My beautiful princess…'

'Heh…' She croaked, coughing thereafter. 'I…am anything but…'

'You're still my world.' Fareeha assured, meaning every word.

'You best…rediscover what drove you before, Fareeha…' Angela shivered, unable to pull at even her own covers, Fareeha having to tuck her in. 'Because…I know my time is coming. It's…very close.'

Angela's eyes winced, and her mouth trembled. Fareeha attempted to offer her some food, but it was a disaster, Angela's ability to chew too much of a struggle for her to even bother. She had already refused alternative means of obtaining nutrients. She had claimed it was pointless.

'Fareeha…' She began again, and the younger girl listened carefully. 'I have not the energy to play the pillar any longer…I don't want to leave you.'

Fareeha's face broke at that simple truth, and she touched Angela's hands, bringing them to her forehead in desperation.

'Then don't…!'

'Heh. If only there were a choice.' Angela exhaled, crackling forming in her throat. 'If only…'

'Rest.' Fareeha encouraged then.

'I can't. I fear…not awakening. It's so close…'

'But…'

'I want to see you one last time. I want to hear your voice. Feel…your touch. Oh…I wish to make love to you. There were…too few occasions…'

Fareeha was Angela's one and only. She took pride in that, but it saddened her immensely as well. She had gone so many years without know what it was like to be intimate with another human. She had given so much only…only to be taken before her time. Surely she deserved more than this. Fareeha's frustration escalated, and must've revealed itself upon her face, for her lady went on.

'I am content…for the most part. After all, hadn't it been for you, I…would never have known such incredible love…in the first place.'

'What can I do?' Fareeha begged.

'Talk to me.' Was the simple reply.

'Talk…?'

'Yes.'

'But…your voice…'

'It's dreadfully…torturous, but oh, so worth it…'

Fareeha met Angela's fading blue eyes, nodding slowly as she sunk into the doctor's world.

'Tell me, Fareeha…what did you enjoy most…about our relationship?'

'Everything.' Was the natural response.

'You are very sweet…' Angela swallowed, her neck convulsing and her eyes fluttering in pain. 'But please, do specify. We doctors…are quite detail…oriented…'

Why? It was killing her. Even the mundane act of _talking_ threatened to snuff what little was left.

'Please.' Angela practically sobbed, and Fareeha tensed her jaw, thinking back upon all the time spent together.

'Your…presence.' She began, trying to flesh out her thoughts. 'Knowing I had my best friend so close. Knowing…I could always be honest with you.'

'Yes. I can agree with that…'

'Your intelligence. Your wisdom. Your dedication to helping those in need. I loved it all.'

'We are not…so dissimilar…'

'Your beautiful hair. Your kind smile. Your gorgeous eyes.'

'Your full lips…Your…strong grip. Your…tender kisses…Your…honour…and pride…'

Angela's eyes blinked, flickering as they rolled back.

'Angela…!'

'H-hah…' She grasped at staying conscious. 'Please…help those I couldn't, Fareeha. My life's work…continue with it…'

'I cannot…I don't have your powers…'

'You do. You still have a piece of me. You always will. I…created documents describing how to use them for others. How to…allow the nanomachines to temporarily assist in…healing…'

'But you're a doctor. I'm…'

'One of the bravest…strongest…kindest soldiers I've ever met. Step in only…when nothing else can be done by modern medicine.'

Fareeha swallowed shards of glass, touching Angela's wrinkled face.

'Without you…?'

Angela's hand trembled to touch Fareeha's own.

'Without me.'

It finally hit her in full force right there in that conclusive utterance. Without Angela Ziegler? Without the woman she loved? No. No! It would destroy her. How could she find motivation knowing what she had lost? It seemed so…impossible!

'How…?' Fareeha sobbed. 'How did you push on when I…?'

'Heh…That's the irony.' Angela coughed, eyes red and streaming tears, staring at Fareeha full of love. 'I couldn't.' She whimpered. 'Thus…here you are.'

' _Then how the hell am I supposed to do it!?_ '

'Because…you're so very, very…strong…and brave…' She smiled, then, staring into the distance briefly with glassy pupils. 'I think back…often…to the first moment I lay eyes on you again in Iraq. So…handsome.' She giggled, but coughed profusely, blood spraying from her lungs. 'I…felt my heart skip, I think. Like it does…every time I see you still…'

Fareeha sniffed back the urge to cry without reserve. Angela needed her to be present; not overcome with sorrow. She looked upon the wilting angel of Overwatch and touched her wrinkled face, hands shaking with awareness of what was coming.

'Don't…go…' Angela begged, as she had many times before. Perhaps alluding to this very moment unconsciously.

'Never.'

'Stay…with me…'

'Forever.'

'Heh. My…thanks…'

'Alright, already. Enough of the cryfest.' A drawling voice punctured the air as the door slid open and Sombra moved her hand across her body, revealing herself in a veil of violet, nothing but a short, revealing shirt draping off one of her shoulders and tight pants accentuating her surprisingly fit physique.

'Get out!' Fareeha shouted instinctively, standing in aggravation.

'Uh…you sure you want me to do that?' The hacker rolled her eyes. 'I'm, like, the hero of Overwatch, you know? Beat Nemesis and all that. Brought some folks back from a bogey mission. Might wanna bow or something, cause I'm totally gonna deus ex machina this shit.'

Fareeha blinked, recognizing the term and repressing the blink of hope pulsating in her veins.

'Sombra…' Angela leaned back. 'You…received my data.'

'Obviously. That kinda juice is sweet stuff. Did a little research of my own and came up with a thing or two. Believe it or not? Hacking Nemesis gave me the jolt I needed. Guy had an archive of information ripe for the picking…even if it almost fried my freakin' circuits. Jesus…'

'What…is happening?' Fareeha looked between the two women, her body trembling without her even realizing it.

'Heh…' Angela giggled, suppressing the need to cough. 'I…kept my promise…my knight. I can only pray…this final effort…succeeds…'

'Take a seat, Birdie.' Sombra cracked her fingers, bringing up four purple monitors out of thin air and situating herself right next to Angela. 'Doctor's in the house. Turn that sexy "operation" sign on. I got work to do.'


	79. LXXIX: Widowmaker

Widowmaker

It didn't feel like the first time, but in the same instance, it did. Amelie stared down at the grave of her late husband, a single rose laid before it and the rain coming down hard all around her. It was a fitting set, she supposed. Death was the only thing that welcomed her upon returning home, her mind nearly completely mended, and her emotions reclaimed.

She knelt, the black trench coat draped over her shoulders meeting with the wet ground. The name "Gerard Lacroix" was written clear as day alongside his years of life. This was her final destination as well. Everyone's, really. Knowing Gerard's decaying body rested beneath her dug another pit of suffocation in her heart, and Amelie reached forward, touching the grave and wincing at the sight of the tattoo on her arm, her sleeve pulled back slightly.

' _I'm sorry, Gerard. You deserved much better._ ' She uttered quietly in the same language of the country housing her.

Truthfully, getting back to France wasn't especially difficult. Indeed, her fake I.D. provided by Talon had worked well enough, and Overwatch had already paid her enough for the trip and living expenses for some time. That wasn't even mentioning her own private fortune; one she had somehow managed to maintain despite the degradation of her good name after Gerard's death and her own disappearance. True, she was forced to keep herself _somewhat_ hidden from the public eye due to whispers of a blue-skinned master assassin amongst the terrorists known as Talon, but even that was still considered hearsay, and she was mostly able to function in society without too much suspicion beyond a curious look at her complexion or…figure.

Amelie kissed her hand and touched Gerard's grave one final time, rising from the spot and walking through the streets of Paris. The city hadn't changed terribly. In fact, old landmarks brought Amelie back to a simpler time, when she lacked worldly experience and was solely focussed on her next production and, eventually, Gerard's satisfaction. Omnics were slightly more prominent, she observed, and the overall _feel_ of the city had a touch of anxiety, considering everything that was happening in the world, but being the capital of France brought with it some governmental benefits, and the security as well as authorities in place to maintain peace had done so admirably, as far as Amelie could tell, despite parts of the world suffering from the resurgence of the God program and more powerful omnics than ever before.

Amelie stepped into a bakery she had frequented in her younger days, eyeing the displays of breads and pastries while embracing the scent of fresh coffee. She was greeted politely by the cashier, their intonation slipping perhaps upon seeing the unique state of their current customer, only an elderly gentleman and some college youths (a young man and girl) being the other patrons.

' _Hello._ ' Amelie responded smoothly, gliding about the options presented to her, taking a tray and tongs to satisfy her growing hunger. She felt the male student's eyes on her, clearly distracted from his laptop and the work he and his girl friend (girlfriend?) had been engrossed in. With but a glance, however, he turned away, and Widow grinned to herself, clicking her way to the cashier and watching the middle-aged woman ring her through.

' _New to the city?_ ' She asked, doing well not to stare too hard.

' _…In a sense._ ' Amelie decided to answer, also ordering a hot beverage.

' _You look a little familiar, but I don't recall knowing anyone with…_ '

' _Such a unique choice of makeup?_ ' Amelie jested, and the woman laughed heartily, the tension broken.

' _Exactly. Well, in any case, welcome, and the drink is on the house. Enjoy our fair city_.'

' _Thank-you, my dear. I will. Have a wonderful day._ '

' _You, too._ '

Normalcy. She had been through hell to return to it. Amelie sat in an empty part of the bakery, right next to the window, watching the rain drip down the glass, cascading in montages of desperate pursuits. She could live her life again for the time being. Be Amelie Lacroix, although not without some complications, she was aware. Still, this moment was something she had craved so. No killing. No violence. Simply…being.

Lena Oxton had given her this precious opportunity, and she had no way of ever thanking her enough. She owed so much to that girl and Angela Ziegler; but primarily the former, because Lena hadn't given up on her. Not once. However, Amelie had to leave Overwatch for multiple reasons. She _wanted_ to fight for the cause. She _wanted_ to get revenge against Talon. She _wanted_ to pay both Lena and Angela back. And yet…

It was selfish. _She_ was selfish. Nemesis had almost killed her. With her emotions back in form, she was able to comprehend precisely what death meant for the first time in what felt like forever. Dying without ever having the chance to live again? No. Not a chance. Thus, she left. But not before displaying just how self-centred she was willing to be now.

Amelie had made love to Lena one last time, almost hoping the idea of it would repel her again. It hadn't. In fact, she recalled the act with longing, her eyes fluctuating thoughtfully as she took a small bite of her flavoured bread. Lena had done as she was told. She didn't return any of the affection whatsoever. It was all Amelie. It was a weak form of defence against the inevitable "row" the intimacy enjoyed may invoke between Lena and Emily. Amelie was regretful only partially. She had finally taken what she wanted, and it was merely the beginning for now.

What the woman hadn't expected, however, was how much she missed Lena already. The girl had weaseled her way into Amelie's life indefinitely, and that final night together – the talking, the drinks, the laughter, and the sex – was difficult to let go of. Ideally, Amelie was making a clean break. That was, unfortunately, a romanticized version of the future she had planned. Returning to Overwatch wasn't out of the question anymore, but certainly not for some time. Amelie had to be completely sure of these emotions she harboured for Lena Oxton and if they were truly worth fighting for…despite perhaps at the expense of Emily's current happiness; a woman Amelie respected enough to care about.

Amelie had to position thoughts of Lena out of her mind for the time being. It was a tricky matter, but she managed until this point well enough. Days had already passed. Surely Overwatch was in no position to waste resources seeking her out. Not after the destruction caused to their base. Amelie could only hope Lena and the others would find safety in a new base and leave her be.

The door to the bakery clinked open, a little bell notifying the workers of a new customer. It was a girl with short, boyish hair and a saunter in her step. Amelie rolled her eyes, turning away after taking the pretty thing in. The world could be cruel, Amelie knew all too well. This she could handle. She finished her snack and drink, left a tip, and made her exit, amusing herself by winking at the tomboy on her way out, likely confusing the poor girl.

The rain wasn't letting up, but that was fine. Amelie knew her next destination; had known she would make her way to the place the moment her plane landed. The neighbourhood had hardly changed, the arts valued in Paris and the strip of various elite schools for dance and the like upkept beyond measure. She felt a familiar anxiety knock into her stomach as she stared up at the large window on the third floor of a prestige building. Without a second thought, she entered, her heels clapping on the floor to the receptionist's desk. With a silky-smooth motion, she extracted her identification card, sliding it along the waist-high surface to the bored looking woman, absorbed by some sort of program on her phone.

' _No lessons until the late evening, sweetheart. Sorry._ ' She mumbled.

' _I would like to make private use of the auditorium._ ' Amelie cooed back.

This forced the irritable lady to shuffle her squeaky chair and observe the card Amelie had provided. She adjusted her sharp glasses and blinked, her mouth hanging open while she looked up. Amelie _thought_ she had recognized her, but the years had been cruel. Smoking did that.

' _A-Amelie…?_ '

' _Yes._ '

' _But…You're okay?_ '

' _It would appear so._ '

' _What happened to you?_ '

Amelie shrugged, taking back her card.

' _I have learned what it means to be alive._ '

With that, the doors were unlocked, and Amelie climbed a familiar staircase, letting her hand glide across the railing and absorbing the moments she once took for granted as a young woman. She held her breath, exhaled, and opened the door leading to her studio; where she had spent countless hours training to be one of the best dancers in France. She returned not only that, but also one of the most lethal killers the world has ever been subjected to. Her eyes had been opened to a great many things her life had to offer, some the very image of hell, and some…not so much. Indeed, the caring touch of another, in every way, shape, and form, had given her a second chance, and she wasn't about to squander that.

Amelie allowed her coat to fall to the floor, and she removed her heels, savouring the cool material beneath her feet with one step and then another, one leg in front of the next, her body a vehicle for communication of the highest level. She lifted her hands over her head, and then slid them down, rubbing her face and her body, _feeling_ the sensation of her own caress, the inevitable reminder of that foolish girl's command of the same motion undeniable.

Amelie faced forward, balancing upon one leg and pointing that same limb's toe, lifting herself up high and twisting about with perfect accuracy. She leapt. Switched feet. Posed. Again. Bending more and more and more. She watched herself in the mirror, seeing the pale, shy woman who once was become replaced by a blue-skinned assassin who knew much more than before.

Talon had raped her life. There was no question about such a fact. And Amelie would never thank the terrorist group for stripping her of everything she knew. But there was also something to be said for where she ended up. Stronger. Wiser. More intelligent. Capable of loving beyond the capacity of her sheltered past self. She had worldly experience; now more than ever. There was a singular woman she had to thank for all of this. Yes. She would willingly show gratitude to her. Perhaps in the future. Perhaps in time…

' _Further. Further. Further._ ' A crackling voice commanded suddenly, and Amelie nearly snickered, doing as she was told almost inhumanly. ' _Perfection. See? You_ can _do it._ '

' _I can do anything now, Madame._ '

' _Truly? I almost don't doubt it based on what I witness here. Show me more._ '

Amelie felt chills cover her skin as a familiar tune began just then. Swan Lake. Her old teacher wanted it. Amelie closed her eyes, saw the two women she was merge into one, and did as was encouraged, incorporating the most challenging of ballet steps to prove her point not only to her teacher, but to herself as well.

Grand Adage. Fouette. Pirouettes. En Pointe. And, quite naturally, more than a few Grand Jetes. Amelie sunk into her art, tears filling her eyes as her mind traversed the journey that had brought her here. A young girl with a hint of talent. A woman finding love. A victim forced into savagery. A lost child amidst insanity. A savior she could only admire distantly. A lover shirking her idea of normalcy. A hero. A new person looking toward a future she never thought she could obtain.

' _You are the very image of perfection, Amelie Lacroix. I dare say, the world needs this exertion of emotion now more than ever before. My child, grant this old lady one more show…_ '

* * *

Amelie snapped up, her elaborate costume quivering alongside her heart, and the stadium full of hundreds of thousands roared, leaping out of their seats and whistling over, and over, and over again. Amelie's chest heaved, white makeup stripped across her face and the swan outfit a spectacle in and of itself upon her perfectly shaped body. Her return to the stage was monumental, and she knew it might mean danger, but she wouldn't hide from Talon. They wouldn't rule her life anymore.

Somehow, despite the noise, the colours, and the incredible reception of her debut dance since leaving Paris, Amelie's cybernetic eyes caught sight of a spider tucked away in the corner of the auditorium's back roof. Not unlike before, the creature managed to send a chill through her soul, but not because she was afraid of it as an arachnid, but because of the fact it had no emotion. And without emotion, how could one ever truly _live_? Ever feel _alive_?

Indeed, as Amelie greeted fans who had spent an exuberant amount of money to step within three feet of her, the dancer was reminded of what she had gained, and what she had to lose, when a young woman with messy brown hair, a sly grin, and a glowing blue piece beneath her dashing tux handed her the biggest bouquet of roses she had ever seen in her treasured life.

'Bloody amazing, Luv.' Was all she said.

And Amelie cried tears of joy, sadness, fear, relief…and hope.


	80. LXXX: Mercy

Mercy

 _Username: AZMercy_

 _Password: *******_

 _Welcome back, Angela Ziegler. User authentication verified. Update notes displaying:_

 _Overwatch Gibraltar officially abandoned. New location successfully obtained._

 _Nemesis unit confiscated. Currently under evaluation. Remnants of black matter used in replication of a human nervous system. Deemed prototypical. Nemesis feared to be first of new line. In addition, psyche assumed to be forcibly ejected. Eligible leader of Talon perpetually at large._

 _Captured Talon agents relinquished to U.N. earning Overwatch artificial support. Petras Act under scrutiny as a result of global terrorism at an all-time high. Black omnics continue to spread death and destruction, with little interference._

 _Overwatch has, however, obtained silent U.N. support from those who have not been compromised as of this moment. Agent Sombra working toward "persuading" remaining tainted members to quietly leave their seats but is meeting with intense resistance and danger. Temporary pause and re-evaluation toward handling said circumstance in motion._

 _Currently, Overwatch continues to remain vigilant, and every member is hard at work preparing for the battles the future all but promises. Perhaps even I will have the opportunity to participate. It is a feasible future, regardless._

 _Further information is permitted to Grandmaster class agents only. Proceed?_

 _Password 1:_

 _Password 2:_

* * *

Fareeha was obviously nervous as she took "the stage", lights flashing all around and the screen before her transitioning to the song she had been practically forced to choose. Leading up to the moment, she had downed more alcohol than necessary, but that still didn't stop her from shaking like a leaf.

'Go, Fareeha! Go! Go, Fareeha! Go!' Hana screamed in delight, slapping her tambourine excitedly with every "go" she exclaimed.

'Show us what you're made of, girl!' Brigitte also encouraged.

'Oh! I know this one! It's a classic!' Mei added.

The melody was slower than one would have expected from Fareeha, but it had a notable "rock" undertone, and the familiar sounds of the electric guitar seemed to calm the young woman a little bit, lyrics appearing on the screen as it played the music video belonging to the said song, various images of fields and old cities in black and white filtering across and flashing through the little room.

Fareeha hummed a little, and then began to sing along, her voice not exactly great, but certainly not terrible either. It was quite the sight, and all her friends continued to cheer, likely satisfied they had convinced the usually stoic lady to take it easy and join a night in the city of Busan, the home of Overwatch's newest base thanks to Hana's connections and Overwatch's amazing standing in Korea due to assisting with the omnic that had been terrorizing the country for years.

It was a night of celebration, Overwatch now officially part of the Korean government's army and finding new funding thanks to that fact. For the ongoing war, things were finally looking at least a little up, and Hana convinced many of the famous females of Overwatch to enjoy a night out with her, karaoke still very prominently enjoyed as a popular Korean pastime.

'Oh, my gosh! I'm swooning, Fareeha! You're so hot!' Hana seemed to joke, although the way she looked at the young woman it was almost easy to believe she was a little serious.

'Fareeha _is_ hot! Look at that muscle!' Brigitte had drunk quite a bit as well, but she held her liquor impressively, more than likely thanks to her family roots and own physical build.

Fareeha went on, grinning a little as she did so. She _was_ incredibly beautiful, wasn't she? She had taken the time to do her makeup, her eyes gorgeous and popping through the extra detailing in her mascara. The ornaments in her hair were as dazzling as ever, and the rather sexy top she wore (a black piece that was more like two large straps wide enough to cover her tanned breasts until it was tucked into her fitted jeans) gave frequent glimpses of her tantalizing body.

Everyone was delighted by the show, and Fareeha lifted the mic high dramatically at the end, finally meeting Angela's eyes and grinning handsomely.

'Your turn.' She almost laughed.

Indeed, Angela had survived her most traumatic experience yet, and she was able to enjoy this evening with her knight and friends of Overwatch in no small thanks to Sombra, a literal miracle worker perhaps even beyond Angela's abilities in some respects.

Keeping her word to Fareeha for dedicating time nearly on the daily to finding a solution to her degrading nanotechnology that sustained her, Angela had made a desperate move in reaching out to Sombra, hardly thinking the genius would be willing to participate in such a trying task, considering the hypothesis Dr. Ziegler had created herself regarding what could be done.

Nonetheless, in a truly dramatic fashion akin to the infamous woman's reputation, Sombra had appeared at the eleventh hour, having gained the insight needed to perform the "operation". And an operation it was, for as Angela had determined, each and every nanomachine in her body needed to be recalibrated on a molecular level. Thus, only one of the most patient and brilliant "hackers" the world had to offer had a prayer of successfully pulling off such a feat.

After nearly twenty-four hours of work, with Fareeha managing all Sombra's needs from drinks, to foods, to even massages to work out cramps, Angela could feel her body pulling itself back together, cells being discharged and recreated as if denying the very nature of Time itself. After only two more days following the operation, Angela hadn't felt better in quite some time. It was truly amazing. Her life was saved.

Naturally, Sombra hadn't done the deed without some demands of her own, but they were surprisingly tame, and she was _still_ willing to stick around Overwatch even after the move to Busan. She had asked that she get a 30% cut of Angela's pay every month. The only part of this that bothered Angela was the fact she gave much of her income to charities to help those in need around the world, but Fareeha was quick to ease Angela's mind by stating she would fill whatever gap existed because of the trade. Sombra didn't seem to care, so long as she got her money.

Therefore, Angela stood up from her seat, a pretty, white spring dress flowing about her thighs as her pink heels clicked against the floor. She adjusted the white floral ornament in her hair; the same one Fareeha had fancied so, touched the previous dog tag that once belonged to her lover, and took the mic, the song she had selected beginning and her nerves escalating, since she knew her musical talent wasn't anything worth writing home about.

However, she felt blessed to be even given this opportunity, surrounded by individuals that sincerely cared about her and, perhaps more importantly, by the woman who had shown her what the most mysterious human emotion meant in all its glory. Angela sang without regard, and she was thankful above all else for having the chance to do so.

* * *

'How intoxicated are you, Fareeha Amari?' Angela grinned, looking down from their apartment's patio, the lights from Busan's incredible city flickering far and wide.

'Not terribly…' Fareeha leaned on the blockade, pushing her fingers through her hair. 'But a little.'

'Tonight was very fun.'

'It was.'

'Although I didn't expect to have everyone crash at our place. Certainly a unique experience.'

'I knew the second we decided to return here with them all this would happen. Hana was bobbing despite her forced energy, and Mei collapsed after only one hand of cards. Brigitte is making use of that silly cat pillow she got us as a housewarming gift, at least.'

'But it's not bad, is it?'

'No. Not in the least.'

Angela stepped in next to Fareeha, a slight chill in the summer air. She touched the woman's hand, felt it encapsulate her own, and leaned into her, resting her head against the taller girl's chest and shoulder.

'To be capable of enjoying a night of solitude with you like this…I thought I would never experience such simple joy again.'

Fareeha's body tightened. It had felt so long ago yet close at the same time. Even with her nanotechnology newly reconfigured, Angela's body had mysterious, faint marks that hinted at where her skin had sagged and wrinkled severely. Due to this, she and Fareeha hadn't made love since before her operation, the blemishes bothering the doctor more than she cared to admit. Although her knight had claimed ignorance without intense inspection, Angela's rarely admitted vanity lurked, and had driven the smallest of wedges in the relationship physically, although the same could not be said for the very foundation of their love; it had never been stronger.

'I…don't ever want to experience that form of fear again.' Fareeha gripped Angela's hand, but then wrapped her arm around her, making the angel of Overwatch feel small pleasantly. 'Watching you fade before me? There is little worse than that, I have discovered.'

'I'm sorry, Fareeha. It was cruel of me.'

'No.' Fareeha reassured her, as always, ever vigilant and chivalrous with her words. 'It's part of why I fell in love with you. Your selflessness and care for others…It's always been so beautiful to me.'

'Heh.' Angela giggled, holding Fareeha and looking up at her. 'That word is precious in my mind, you should know.'

'O-oh…Right…' The woman blushed, and it only brought pleasure to Angela's teasing side.

'Who knew a moment of delirium could bring us to this point? Living together. Looking to the future together. Holding one another like this.'

'True…'

'Don't be shy. Not with me.'

'I know.'

'Look at me.' Angela demanded, and the red-faced woman did as she was asked, her dark irises swimming with determination and honesty. 'There. Was that so difficult?'

'Never. Not when I have the opportunity to see you.'

It was Angela's turn to blush.

'You charmer…'

'It's just the truth.'

'I am well aware of that.'

They held one another's gaze for a while longer, and Angela thought perhaps Fareeha would kiss her – somewhat hoped she would – but her reservations for having others partially nearby on another side of glass held her back (even if they were all asleep in various locations of the apartment).

The couple turned toward the city of Busan, its distant buildings a spectacle all on their own, flashing images of Hana on some of them.

'Part of me was truly praying the defeat of Nemesis would slow the fighting…' Angela revealed quietly, her heart hurting suddenly. 'But it would appear we are merely turning the page, moving deeper into this war's story than ever before.'

'Yes…'

'I hate it.' Angela hissed, surprising herself with the raw honesty of the claim; one she did her best to push down in most instances. 'One would think, after all this time, I would have developed _some_ form of immunity to it all. Yet, here I stand, ever frustrated by the unyielding selfishness of humans and their greed.'

'Further proof of your alluring character, my love.' Fareeha said so sincerely it soothed the edge in Angela's tone.

'How do you do it, Fareeha?' Angela decided to ask.

'Do what?'

'Fight. Kill. Participate so willingly in battles that will only result in loss and sadness?'

Fareeha twisted her jaw before answering, seeking the right words as she stared handsomely into the night.

'Sometimes…it is necessary, I suppose. I do not revel in hurting others.'

'Oh, I know.' Angela was more than aware, and this seemed to calm Fareeha some.

'But the ends justify the means, in some cases. I fight for those I love, for justice, and for a brighter future for all. To protect the innocent. To be strong when others cannot. I carry this burden upon myself, and was taught at a very young age what it meant to be judge, jury, and executioner, should it come to such extremes. I believe what Overwatch fights for now is the correct path, and I also believe we will win this war again, like we did before.'

'Ever the dreamer, Fareeha, but I quite appreciate your optimism. Perhaps due to my escapades in parts of the world where kindness has been forgotten I have become a bitter woman. Your hopeful perspective is rather refreshing.'

'…I am glad.'

Angela sighed, watching far below where groups of individuals were galivanting about, one collection of younger persons bumping into a lone omnic and cackling about it as they went on with their night. It twisted Angela's soul. Such meaningless cruelty…

'I just want the fighting to end.' She murmured.

'It will…but maybe not for some time, unfortunately.'

'It would seem that way, wouldn't it?'

'Yes. But Overwatch has gained support in the Korean government, and if we can continue to sway others to join our cause, there will be victory; I know it.'

Angela closed her eyes, slipped out from Fareeha's grasp, and leaned her back against the patio's railing.

'Hold me.' She demanded abruptly.

Fareeha feigned hesitation tactfully, but then stepped close, placing her hands on Angela's hips and allowing their bodies to touch just subtly. Angela wrapped _her_ hands around the taller woman's neck and smiled earnestly, relieved by the feeling of being so near someone she trusted this much.

'My thanks.' She beamed, restricting her expression as she went on. 'I would have loved for you to have met Gloria, Fareeha.' Enough talk of fighting. It was over for the time being.

Fareeha's eyes widened in surprise, and it was adorable.

'Really?'

'Why wouldn't I? Doesn't every younger sister brim with pride when they know they have won the lottery relationally? Wouldn't anyone be overjoyed to show off their companion in life to their family? Goodness, I don't believe I am _that_ ignorant to what transpires for most couples when meeting the parents and such.'

Fareeha let this sit for a moment, and then simply nodded.

'I can understand that much, yes. Although part of me was apprehensive about what my mother would think, a large portion of my feelings leaned on pride as well.'

Angela felt a chill run her spine, making her shiver in her knight's grasp. She could feel Fareeha's breath warmly on her cheek, and she edged closer to her lips, caressing the back of the woman's neck as she did so.

'Kiss me, Fareeha.' She whispered, and the incredible soldier did exactly that, the exchange tender and delicate at first, but once a small groan fluttered through Angela's throat, the intensity of the moment amplified in turn, and Fareeha's grip tightened, almost pulling on Angela's dress roughly.

They parted, lips moist and cheeks flushed with exasperated desire. There was an awkward pause, with Fareeha glancing behind herself as if to expect their slumbering guests to have suddenly disappeared. She was shy with public displays of affection; Angela knew this, but it had been quite some time since they had been intimate, and Fareeha could likely tell how much Angela wanted this now, her vanity be damned.

To both tease her and push her along, Angela softly placed her hand between her own legs, biting at her lower lip and looking up at her knight, begging her silently to have courage. This had the desired effect, and Fareeha swept Angela off her feet, as she had perhaps since their very first meeting, and navigated through their apartment, over the various sleeping forms and misplaced pillows until Angela felt the comfort of their king-sized bed on her back. Two hands rested on either side of her face a second later, and Fareeha's tall form was overtop of her, nerves beginning to tingle through Angela despite her throbbing groin.

'Is this okay?' Fareeha touched Angela's cheek gently, so full of affection it was difficult to respond with anything but allowance.

'Oh, Fareeha…' Angela responded, reaching up and cupping the gorgeous woman's face in her hands. 'It will always be okay so long as it's you before me.'

Fareeha grinned at this, and began kissing Angela, her mouth so perfect for the doctor's in the way their lips moved about one another's. Angela opened the intimacy up to allow for deeper embrace, and Fareeha accepted the invitation, trailing her tongue around Angela's lips before plunging deep, lifting the slender woman into her powerful body and reaching around to grip at her backside, bunching the dress up until Angela could feel the exposure of her legs, momentarily wondering if they might get caught in the act and shocked by how more aroused the mere thought made her.

Angela had imagined pulling the tauntingly seductive fabric that was encasing Fareeha's chest all evening, and now she finally had her chance, yanking the material to the side and cupping the pretty bare breasts in her hands, loving the satisfaction of Fareeha's breaths shortening with every caress and knead.

Fareeha moved from Angela's mouth to her neck, to her collar, and then to her ear, goosebumps causing the doctor's whole body to buzz, her state of being escalating dramatically. She could smell the hints of alcohol in Fareeha's breath, and knew this was making her knight frightfully bold. Perhaps it was contagious.

'Do me, Fareeha Amari…' Angela moaned, and the woman's grip tightened. 'Make love to me this instant.'

Perhaps this was the breaking point, for Fareeha practically lifted Angela up, spinning her onto her stomach and stripping her dress to the floor, nearly ripping the fabric as she enacted it all. Her hands reached around Angela, the tips of her chest pressing into her back as she pushed into Angela's panties, massaging her soaked form torturously. It was a new and surprisingly erotic position, Angela's movements restricted due to Fareeha's weight controlled atop of her. She bit at the sheets, twisting them with her hands and all the strength she had.

'Inside…' She begged; whined even. 'Please…!'

Fareeha was horrible. She was doing everything but, just barely pressing into Angela with one or two of her fingers before retreating. It was infuriating, and yet, highly stimulating. Angela attempted to muffle her cries of elation, but when Fareeha's weight disappeared, and her tongue was pushing so deep it made Angela question if a prop was being used, Angela screamed, a tiny release causing her stomach to pinch and quiver with further anticipation.

'I missed this taste.' Fareeha hummed, and Angela knew her face was completely red from the comment.

Fareeha had a talent for perfecting whatever she set her mind to, and this was no exception. She knew precisely when to hook her tongue within, pressing against a spot that almost immediately pushed Angela over the edge. She knew when to suck. Lap. Tease. It was a crime no other woman got to experience this girl's abilities. Angela hadn't even realized her backside was propped up into the air. Her eyes were watering, and her face had been struck dumb. Soon, Fareeha was over her body again, her fingers deep and her thumb even teasing another point of entrance Angela didn't know could feel even slightly good.

But when she went to yelp at the sudden double sources of pleasure, her mouth was filled with Fareeha's fingers, and she sucked at the slender extensions of her lover as sexually as she could, coiling her tongue around them as she rocked, allowing Fareeha's other hand to fill her in ways she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams not so long ago.

'Mmm…mm…mmph…!' Angela didn't care anymore. She was lost in the moment. If anyone awoke, they would merely have to deal with the noise. She was too far gone. This was love in one of its rawest, most honest forms, and Angela had skimmed Death too closely last time to not revel in what Life had to offer her in an area she had neglected for so long.

'I'm going to cum again…!' Angela squeaked quickly, and no sooner did the words leave her voice did she clench onto Fareeha, a spasm overtaking her as she groaned into the sheets, biting the blankets and feeling her eyes rolls back in pleasure.

'That seemed more intense than usual.' Fareeha appraised soothingly, tickling Angela's back.

'It's…been some time, I suppose…' She answered breathlessly. 'I missed you.'

Fareeha's touch intensified at that, and she massaged Angela's shoulder blades perfectly.

'I missed you, too.'

'You're next.' Angela hummed.

'You really don't have to.'

This almost insulted Angela, and she used what little strength she had remaining to reverse their positions, pushing Fareeha onto her back and tugging at her sexy, black panties until the woman's gorgeous body was fully revealed, a wave of satisfaction washing over the doctor when she felt how wet her lover was.

'Truly? You would have gone to bed like this?'

'Guilty.' Fareeha grinned, but that grin crumbled when Angela began moving, grinding on her knight's firm, muscular thigh while simultaneously pushing her own leg against the spoken of moistness, adjusting so she could satisfy her girlfriend's needs.

'Oh, God…' Fareeha's lips quivered, and Angela smiled, shifting positions so their bodies could kiss, a lewd sound developing the more they rocked. 'I love it when you do that…'

'It's…rather nice…isn't it?'

'A-ah…! So good…!'

'Heh…' Angela's body struggled to keep up, the position demanding for someone not quite as physically fit as required, but Fareeha was obviously overwhelmed with stimulation, and that pushed Angela to go on, especially when her lover shouted…

'Fuck…!' Fareeha grunted through her clenched teeth, and she was evidently experiencing the sweet release of all the buildup, her stomach more defined than usual as her groin convulsed against Angela's, the muscles on her arms and neck protruding as she pulled at the sheets.

It had shocked Angela into sobriety, but then she started giggling, trying to muffle her amusement as Fareeha covered her own eyes with her arm, heaving with exhaustion from the rapturous event.

'That…was unexpected.' She laughed.

'Hah…' Fareeha also chuckled a little. 'It just felt…so different. So amazing…'

Angela was reminded of her lady's poor sexual experiences in the past, and it angered her to think anyone would treat this wonderful human badly. She crawled over to Fareeha, glancing to the door for a moment due to thinking she heard something, and then lay in beside her, propping herself up with her left hand. She leaned in to kiss Fareeha's cheek, the surface a little salty from a dab of sweat, and Fareeha beamed, closing her eyes.

'My perfect life…' Fareeha started, her tone soft. 'I dreamed of joining Overwatch and fighting for the people, rising in the ranks until becoming one of its leaders…like my mother.'

Angela listened quietly, cherishing these moments when Fareeha decided to be so open and honest considering her tendency to hold back in most cases.

'But now,' Her voice cracked, and she looked at Angela, touching her face so very lovingly. 'I cannot dream of any existence more perfect than this.'

Angela nodded, hardly feeling the need to hesitate.

'Nor can I.' She agreed, knowing she was looking at a companion for life. She could just tell. It was that simple. 'I prescribe myself a healthy dose of a certain Fareeha Amari every day following this one. Do you think, perhaps, that's reasonable?'

Fareeha sat up, shuffling in so she could embrace Angela, the two of them rolling on the mattress until they were uncased in the soft material, the warmth of one another and their bed more soothing than ever before.

'I would like nothing more.' Was the simple answer and, as always, Angela believed Fareeha with all her heart.

* * *

 _I am pleased to hear from you, Jack._

 _Firstly, I would like to report that Fareeha and I are doing well. We are currently in Africa, where the most recent black omnic tests were ran, leaving entire villages wanting for basic necessities, such as water. The team and resources you have provided me are more than appreciated, I would like you to know._

 _I am saddened that the war is still proceeding as thus, even with more than a year passing since my official departure from the frontlines (my ongoing thanks for being so understanding, by the by). The Nemesis omnic model continues to be a terrible force, but the E.M.P. bombs Sombra helped develop seem to be helping, in that regard, thankfully. Fareeha had a run in with one such monster recently, in fact. It was quite frightening._

 _Nonetheless, I suppose I should be appreciative that there_ does _seem to be light at the end of this horrid tunnel, and your message was welcomed quite passionately. I truly believe we owe Sombra more than we can afford at this point, for it was her direct involvement that led to many of the U.N.'s members being reorganized? How riveting! Perhaps, in the near future, we may finally have the support we need to end this war once and for all? I would like that very much._

 _Additionally, I am pleased to hear that Amelie is doing well, and is acting as something of a mercenary when she isn't performing around the world? That woman continues to amaze, considering all she's been through. You suggested that Lena and she take on a number of highly dangerous missions? Any word on their relationship (or lack thereof)? It was an extremely complicated matter, from what I could tell back in time. So long as Lena has found some form of answer as to whom she wishes to be, I suppose all should be well…_

 _Otherwise, you have moved Hana to the Master class? Very good! She is a capable young woman, and encouraging her will only provide better results. I will pass on both her and Brigitte's message to Fareeha, since our cellular signals are generally terrible, and even now, I write this with shoddy internet available to me at best. It's inconvenient, but liberating at the same time, I'll admit. However, you can be sure to let them know that Fareeha misses them both profusely, and we are hoping to visit within the month or next. That would be nice, wouldn't it? I could never understand why Hana was acting so awkward around me for some time after setting up our new base. I would be curious in learning her answer if I were to ask her directly. But excuse me. I'm getting off topic, aren't I?_

 _Also, Ms. Satya Vaswani has joined our cause at last? That should prove beneficial! She is a talented young lady, but I encourage you to handle her gently, for she struggles, at times, with certain social situations. Please keep me informed as to her contributions. Her hard-light technology was ever so mysterious!_

 _Finally, it would appear Reaper, that is, Gabriel, is still at large. Admit your relief, Jack. Heheh! I'm only partially jesting. But I continue to encourage you with your therapy regarding that particular relation. That's all I shall say on the matter._

 _With that, I don't believe there is more to relay for the time being. All things considered, Fareeha and I are doing well, as I said. Give my best to the rest of our Overwatch group, and know that I miss you and the rest more than I care to openly confess._

 _Take care of yourself, Jack._

 _Sincerely, Angela Ziegler._

 _P.S. Oh! That reminds me. I forgot to ask, and I haven't made an official announcement yet, but what do you prefer? Angela Ziegler-Amari? Or Angela Amari-Ziegler?_

* * *

Overwatch

Someday a Dreamer

THE END…


	81. Bonus I: Mercy

Mercy

Angela had learned that it was important to come up for air once in a while now that she was back in the trenches of helping in the far corners of the world where officials were content neglecting to the shadows. She and Fareeha had been away from Overwatch's base in Korea for over a year now, and they found themselves in Japan most recently, finally taking a small break in Kyoto to rest and recover. When some of the other members of Overwatch heard of this, apparently a small band of particularly enthusiastic agents decided to cash in on the momentary break in the fighting to visit the angel and her knight whom, according to Jack, were terribly missed around base.

'Their plane's landed.' Fareeha pointed at the terminal within Tokyo's airport. Her hair had gotten a little longer, and it was tied in ponytail, her strong neck exposed for all to see. She stood out in Japan, her height and skin tone drawing attention as it did in Korea what felt like so long ago. The fact she was beautiful likely helped little, even if she preferred to dress more masculine than not, her current outfit exemplifying as much with her form-fitting jean jacket and stylistically stressed black pants.

'Are you a princess?' A young Japanese girl asked suddenly, appearing before Angela outside her vision initially. This wasn't uncommon. Blonde hair and blue eyes were a combined spectacle for the primarily black and brown combinations within the country.

'I am not, sweetie.' Angela shrugged. 'Just a doc – '

'She is, but it's a secret.' Fareeha swooped in, putting an arm around the woman and sitting next to her. She gave the little girl a wink, and the infant seemed happy with the answer, giggling to herself and rushing off to her apologetic parents.

'It's not good to lie, Ms. Amari.'

'Who says I'm lying?'

'Please…' Angela blushed. This woman, even after so long, continued to make her heart throb with love so fierce it was physically painful. 'I'm in but an oversized sweater and leggings. Hardly "princess" material.'

'Maybe the kid was just smart. She could tell you were special.'

'Then why did she say nothing to you? Hm? As far as I'm concerned, you're just as noteworthy.' Angela tried to counter.

'Because I'm big and scary, obviously. Hahah!'

Fareeha had really learned to loosen up around Angela, and she certainly didn't mind this unfiltered version of the woman who always seemed to hold back when conversing with anyone. Indeed, in the beginning of their relationship, Fareeha had progressively calmed around Angela and Angela alone, but the doctor finally felt she knew this soldier of justice so intimately well it was strange when they were apart. She had quite literally become Angela's other half, and as frightening as that could be at times, Angela relished it more than not. She touched the dog tag beneath her sweater and smiled gently to herself.

'Anyway, who all was coming again?' Fareeha asked, offering Angela a sip of the beverage she had purchased outside the airport from the seemingly endless supply of vending machines sprinkled throughout the country.

'Jack mentioned Lena, Amelie, Brigitte, and Hana for certain, but he suggested one or two extra contemplated tagging along as well.'

'Really? A lull in the fighting is always good.' Fareeha didn't sound overly certain, however.

'With progressively increased U.N. backing, Overwatch can afford more liberties than before. Our efforts in the name of the same company do not go unnoticed either, and Sombra has done impressive work networking through the cancer eroding within the powers that be. Rest amidst war is as essential to those involved as the fighting itself.'

'Wish I knew that during my greener days. Maybe the physical and emotional exhaustion is what led me to making such idiotic choices relationally in the past.'

'You still dwell on such things?' Angela raised a brow.

'Of course. It's a blemish on my record; even more so now that I know what real love is.'

'We all must learn through such experiences. It hardly bothers me anymore.'

'But it does a little, correct?'

Angela steadied her voice.

'Only because I care about you so. It is nothing to be concerned over.'

Fareeha paused, but then nodded, squeezing Angela's shoulder before standing up, crossing her arms and glancing through the terminals projected above them both. The airport was bustling with omnics and humans despite it being somewhat early, but that wasn't a surprise considering the sheer density of the eastern populace. Fareeha had mentioned not being in Japan before, and she seemed especially excited to explore parts of the country with Angela. They had planned their trip so that it would overlap with the Gion Matsuri festival, one of the largest and most important annual events in Kyoto. It was once observed, according to Angela's research, as an opportunity to pray for deliverance from plague, but has since evolved into a celebration of Kyoto – and, in turn, Japanese – culture. It sounded quite exciting either way, and Angela had always wanted to wear a kimono, as the designs on such clothing piqued her interest.

'Looks like they're in baggage claim now.' Fareeha noted, and Angela stood up, going to her side and standing close.

'It's been quite some time since we've seen them, hasn't it? The days simply slip by when we're so involved with others in need.'

'That's true enough. The black omnics help our cause little, but I'm thankful to have learned a thing or two through watching you work.'

'Indeed!' Angela clapped her hands. 'Your ability to help has improved dramatically.' She thought about Fareeha's first encounter with such remedial practises in Iraq, and smiled fondly at the memory. 'Although, you displayed a knack for such comforting in the beginning.'

'I still can't transfer the nanomachines to others, however. That's frustrating.'

'Well, you put them through the wringer almost immediately upon obtaining their benefits, so, it wouldn't surprise me if they're hesitant to expand their horizons.'

Fareeha made a face, and Angela almost had to giggle.

'That still gives you chills, hm?'

'Speaking like that makes it sound like…I have parasites in me.'

Angela nudged Fareeha with her hip.

'Well, in a sense…you do.'

'Stop it!' Fareeha shook her head. It was positively adorable. Only very particular notions made her squeamish, and this was certainly one of them. Creepy crawlies were not her favourite, although she hid it well until recently, to Angela's delight. She loved learning new things about this pretty woman. The wonders never ceased, and she continued to chronicle and value every moment with joy.

Hana was the first to appear, and she was practically skipping, yanking a large suitcase behind her and utterly beaming the second she caught sight of Fareeha and Angela. She essentially screamed with a dramatic finger pointed in the pairing's direction.

'Ah! Spotted them! There they are! There they are! Hah!' She almost sprinted, sliding before Fareeha and Angela prior to standing upright and saluting cutely. 'Dva, reporting for duty!'

Angela had _always_ thought Hana Song was indisputably delightful, and her black bow atop her head and short overalls with cat-themed thigh-highs did little to contest that fact.

'Heheh! At ease.' Angela joked back.

'You look well, Hana.' Fareeha grinned.

'Meh! Not as good as you two! I've missed you _so_ much!' The smaller girl embraced Angela tightly, surprising the doctor, admittedly.

'Oi! And I thought I was fast!' Lena appeared next, with the bulk of the entourage around her. Angela had difficulty taking them all in, a myriad of colours and shapes full of familiar faces greeting her gaze. Lena in a backwards hat, white shirt, and shorts. Amelie wearing a sexy purple shirt and tight black jeans. Brigitte with a sleeveless shirt, of course. And…Sombra? Blue tube top, stylish sunglasses, and white shorts? What on earth? Angela expected perhaps Emily as well, but not the rather isolated world-genius hacker.

'Hey, girl!' Brigitte hustled to Fareeha, clasping her hand and bringing her in for a tight hug. It was somewhat masculine how the two women interacted, and this intrigued Angela's inquisitive mind. 'You keeping up with your training?'

'I don't have all the equipment in the world available to me anymore, but I make do.'

Brigitte gave Fareeha a light jab to the stomach, flicking her head in a teasing way.

'You look good though. New life suits you?'

'Any life with Angela suits me.'

Angela lost her breath. She hadn't expected the unfiltered response and, as a result, made an audible sound that embarrassed her.

'You losers were waiting here for us? What are we, ten?' Sombra chimed in, lowering her glasses sassily.

'You didn't have to come.' Fareeha defended, naturally.

'Feh. And pass up an all-inclusive trip? Yeah. No. Japan is a cybernetic playground for a girl like me. You guys do the hot spring thing and dance around in kimonos or whatever, I'll be surfing some overpopulated seas of data.'

'Seriously? Seems like a bit of a waste, Luv.'

'You wanna play with little ol' me again, "Tracer"? I think you got your hands full enough.'

'Don't be daft.'

'Heheh!'

Angela observed Amelie after the comment, wondering how she had been after all this time. She had left Overwatch so abruptly, and although Jack had assured her the once deadly assassin was well enough, all things considered, she was still terribly mysterious; even more so now that the true Amelie was at the forefront of her persona. What kind of relationship was currently taking place between her and the poster child of Overwatch? Ever perplexing. Perhaps Angela could ascertain some answers for her own amusement over the course of this small vacation.

'How are _you_ feeling, Amelie?' She decided to ask.

'…Fine.' Was the curt response, although Amelie wasn't one for small talk if she could help it, Angela knew. She, at the very least, made eye-contact with Angela, her expression softening just so for the doctor who had helped her become _somewhat_ normal again. Her skin was still blue, and her eyes an unsettling yellow. Did she wish for those abnormalities to be adjusted even now?

'I'm sorry I never had the time for…further procedures.'

'It is not your fault. I left.'

'But she still helps out, so, it's all good.' Lena beamed.

'Can we go now?' Sombra was already on her way, no doubt more than capable of circumnavigating to their hotel without much issue. Nonetheless, the group decided catching up in the bustling airport wasn't the quietest space to do so, and followed the spicy Hispanic. Fareeha held Angela's hand amongst the crowd, and it reminded the doctor of the comfort she felt for the woman. The undeniable link. The longing to be with her forever. She never wanted to take this presence for granted, but she caught herself doing just that, at times. She had almost lost Fareeha. Any normal person would have. Any regular individual would not have been able to bend time and space to their will in a euphoric effort to save one person.

Yet, Angela had.

The reality of that fact ever caused her scientific mind to ramble with questions. Truthfully, she had attempted the act once more, as an experiment, in Vietnam, one of her and Fareeha's stops recently. It was a young girl. A sister. The family was devastated. A rogue black omnic had attacked their home. Angela chose this particular individual due to her ability to heavily sympathize with the loss. She channeled her thoughts and considered the loss of Gloria while she worked. She pushed to be successful more than Fareeha would ever allow. Her nanomachines still buzzed with slight discomfort from the effort.

She couldn't do it.

Zenyatta's words ran through her brain from then onward. "Love", as ridiculous as it sounded. The missing ingredient. A love so profound, pure, and unblemished was the missing component. What else could it be? She couldn't control the emotion. She couldn't when it engulfed her the day she watched Fareeha dig graves in the blistering sun for her sake in Iraq, sweat drenching her clothes and not a singular complaint uttered between her full lips, and she couldn't when a young girl lay before her lifeless. It twisted her heart that such a power was so selective, but she could also comprehend the value it had for humanity.

Living things were meant to die. It's what gave life meaning to begin with. There would be no happiness without sadness. No success without failure. No love…without hate.

Angela looked up at Fareeha, attempting to be sneaky, but her lady caught the gaze, and grinned back down at her, her sultry eyes making Angela's toes curl.

She hated to think about it, but their line of work wasn't precisely the safest form of employment. Thus, the thought passed her by more than she wished it. If Fareeha was lost to her again, would she attempt another revival of the woman? Was it fair? Was it morally sound? Could she make the prior statement – living things are meant to die – with authentic passion?

Angela almost giggled to herself. Yes. She would become a hypocrite without a moment's hesitation.

* * *

It was a large, traditional Japanese mansion-turned-hotel the group was staying in. Angela and Fareeha had suggested the space when hearing of their old teammate's desire to visit them on the vacation. There was just one vacancy left open to house the collection of individuals despite the short notice and the current festival. Somewhat unfortunately, however, was the fact Fareeha and Angela had agreed to allowing both Hana and Brigitte to stay in their room, considering the space allowed and the attempt to keep the cost of the vacation a _little_ reasonable. Angela didn't mind _that_ much, but the idea of being intimate with Fareeha in such a romantic, foreign city wasn't unappealing either. Still, she did like Hana and Brigitte quite a bit, and thus, was happy about the decision to be slightly frugal more than not.

The reality of Sombra, Amelie, and Lena sharing a room was curious enough as well, but even more so when Lena flippantly mentioned a detail she delivered with a touch of apprehension few would be able to deduct with relative ease.

'Emily won't be getting here until tomorrow, but she can at least make it for the festival's big shebang.'

Angela immediately watched for Amelie's reaction, but the woman was quite impossible to read on the best of days, and this was no exception.

'I haven't met your girlfriend yet, Lena. I'm interested in what she's like.' Fareeha responded, surprisingly.

'She's a good woman.' Widow spoke up, eyeing Angela with a glimmer in her gaze. 'Smart. Observant. Compassionate. Lovely red hair.'

'H-heh. Yeah. She's got a lot going for her…' Lena scratched the back of her head.

The group was escorted to their neighbouring rooms shortly thereafter, the woman in a traditional Japanese kimono doing so with incredible grace and composure. She explained the facilities available, mentioning the onsite hot springs, the inclusive meals available, and the other facilities incorporated into the hotel, such as a space for meditation, and even a small exercise area. Angela had to admit that the hotel was stunning in every way, making one feel as though they had stepped into the past of Japanese culture, witnessing the way those of influence from decades ago lived in the beautiful country. The wooden construct. The rice-paper walls. The gardens all around them. She quite liked it.

The room that would be their own for nearly a week was picturesque as well, as if stripped from a painting of Kyoto and brought to life for the women of Overwatch to enjoy. Spacious, decorated in a minimalistic fashion, and warm, invitingly paying homage to the impression Japan wished to leave on any who stayed. The short train ride over to the city gave everyone the chance to catch up a little, with Brigitte, Lena, and Hana being the most talkative as they dug around for information in relation to Angela and Fareeha's activities. Angela was more than aware Fareeha wasn't the talkative type, so, she fielded most of the questions, but her lady attempted to contribute as well, perhaps worried too much pressure was being placed on the doctor. It was a small thing, but Angela found herself constantly tucking such notions away in a special space within her memory. Fareeha was always willing to step out of her comfort zone for her girlfriend. Always. She never drew attention to it. Never made a spectacle of it. Perhaps wasn't even aware she did so. It was part of her honesty. It was part of who she was at her very core. They had been together for a little over a year now. The capacity of love Angela harboured for her was almost painful.

Fareeha placed her and Angela's bags off to the side, cracking her shoulders and observing the area available to them now.

'Are you guys totally sure it's okay that we stay here with you?' Brigitte asked kindly. 'I mean, we don't want to get in the way of anything…'

'Hahah!' Hana blushed slightly. 'In the way of _what_?' She jested.

'It's fine.' Fareeha maintained her composure well enough. 'Angela and I have had plenty of time to ourselves since leaving Overwatch's main base of operations. Catching up with you all is important as well, considering our vacation isn't that long.'

Angela puffed her cheeks a partially.

'That's not precisely true, Fareeha. Our living conditions are rarely entirely ideal, and thus, such…activities have been rather infrequent as of late.' The oldest of the four women made the claim before she could catch herself.

'Oh! Oh! Oh!' Hana giggled wildly.

'It's…really okay.' Fareeha attempted again, and Angela shrunk to work. Unpacking her clothes and unloading various toiletries in the washroom.

It was true though. Angela silently pouted, finally having time to be a bit selfish. She and Fareeha didn't exactly work in the most advanced places on earth, their living conditions often mirroring the difficult lifestyle of Iraq. Water was generally in limited supply, to an extent, and regular bathing had its place only seldomly. Not only that, but Fareeha and Angela's days were long and hard, countless souls needing healing both physically and mentally due to the God Program and black omnic's terror. Whether it was due to feeling dirty, or simply because of utter fatigue, Angela could count on one hand how many times she and Fareeha had been intimate since leaving the luxuries an Overwatch base had to offer. It was a version of reality she chose not to dwell on until this moment, and finally she had the occasion to be irked by it.

'Well, at least it won't be as weird as next door. Emily, Lena, _and_ Widow in one room? Plus Sombra? I almost want to spy on what goes down! Hahah!' Brigitte changed the subject tactfully.

'Oh, my gosh! Right? Drama!' Hana agreed.

'Is there any news on that particular scenario?' Angela rejoined the conversation.

'It's one of the mysteries of Overwatch now.' Brigitte grinned. 'Officially, Lena is still with Emily, but there's _so_ something going on with Widow, too, you know? Widow's always on these crazy solo missions though, and the only person that _sometimes_ joins her is Lena. It's just weird.'

'Intriguing…' Angela cupped her chin.

'We should leave them be, in any case.' Fareeha suggested diplomatically. 'What was the plan? We agreed on visiting the Fushimi Inari shrines, correct? Is everyone coming?'

'Sombra didn't seem interested, but I think everyone else was willing.' Brigitte was changing, obviously used to having to do so in the presence of other women, for she stripped down to her sports bra, removing even that, to Angela's surprise.

'The muscle on your back has become even more defined.' Fareeha appraised, approaching the other woman and nodding approvingly.

'Heh! Thanks! I've been working on that.'

Angela's cheeks were burning. Her eyes flittered back and forth, unsure of where to focus whatsoever. Was she jealous? Aroused? Both? Hana made a squeaking sound of some kind, and Angela finally caught sight of Brigitte's breasts, the fullness of them surprising her. Again, she questioned her own sexuality in the moment, wondering if, indeed, she and Lena weren't so different, ultimately. If she were to lay claim, Angela would likely prescribe herself as preferring women over men, but not exclusively, like Lena. She thought Brigitte attractive, and knew Hana was absurdly cute, but she could also recognize Jack and Gabriel's masculine appeal.

Well, it hardly mattered. She was with Fareeha, and didn't intend on changing that fact anytime soon.

'Ooo! Nice boobies, Brig!' Hana grabbed the young woman from behind, groping her aggressively.

'Hey! Hands off!' Brigitte responded with a harsh slap, the sound cracking through the room.

'Owie!'

'Oh, my…!' Angela covered her mouth. Hana had always been overly flirtatious, but this seemed like a bit much even for her.

'It's fine. She gets like this.' Brigitte chuckled.

'Really?' Questioned Fareeha.

'Yep. Girl likes to tease me. Last couple of times I took her to the gym she's tried something like that. You keep forgetting I'm a bit stronger and faster than you.'

'Meh. I'll get there. I'm training now, after all.' Hana flexed, but it was unimpressive at best. Comical even. Everyone laughed; even Hana herself.

This was nice. Even the simple act of getting dressed for the upcoming hike involved with Inari shrine's red gates was just…nice. As much as Angela used to obsess with what she could do to help any and all in need, Fareeha had revealed just how important it was to take some personal time as well. She could only give so much of herself without needing to refuel. This trip provided Angela with that chance, and she was excited to see where this current adventure took her.

* * *

Angela was reminded of her somewhat compromised physical prowess when the group began climbing the mountain interwoven with beautiful red gates after paying their respects to the Inari shrines at the bottom of the path. Lena and Widow moved very quickly, with Hana surprisingly keeping decent pace with Brigitte, who was urged by Fareeha to not worry about herself and Angela.

'My apologies, Fareeha…' Angela breathed out. She was a bit embarrassed, seeing the way Brigitte, Fareeha, and even Widow easily carried bags with water, snacks, and other necessities with such ease.

'For what?' The girl asked, and Angela knew her well enough to be aware she wasn't joking.

'Being weak. This path is…quite steep.'

Fareeha turned, hands on her hip and gazing upward.

'It is that.' She said distantly.

'I can wait at the bottom, perhaps.' Angela suggested. She had quite enjoyed the old shrines and the natural beauty all around her. It wasn't a horrible possibility. 'I would prefer not to ruin your experience.'

There was a beat then, and Fareeha simply sighed, shaking her head.

'You really think I'd allow that?'

'Well, what would you have me do? I'm already exhausted. We've hardly made any progress. Perhaps I should start joining you for runs in the morning to better increase my stamina…'

'I would welcome the idea.'

'Heh.' Angela smiled wryly. 'It would ruin _your_ exercise, unfortunately.'

'Another second with you? I would take it without hesitation.'

'Even after this long? Truly? By now you've surely ascertained that I am not quite the "angel" the populace suspects. I have my faults, you see.'

Where was this coming from? Angela was irritating herself with such a pathetic attitude. Still, it was somewhat therapeutic as well, really. Honesty. Revealing her doubts. Taking off the mask of strength she always wore in the presence of her patients. Only with Fareeha. Only with her knight. But was she overstaying her welcome? How much longer would her moodiness be tolerated? Fareeha had every right to be annoyed. Perhaps she would finally leave Angela to her silly devices and be on her way.

'What's really wrong here?' Fareeha asked suddenly, pulling Angela to the side so that other tourists could make it by them. They were between two red gates, the kanji decorative and mysterious. Angela could smell the preserved forest nearby, bamboo and wind shifting between physical matter.

'…Nothing.' Angela lied, pushing her luck.

'It's not nothing. Are you frustrated by your fatigue?'

'Well…mostly…' Angela diverted her gaze.

Fareeha breathed out slowly. Would she, at last, tell Angela off? It's not as if they hadn't had a minor spat or two on the road, but Fareeha had such military training that it was near impossible to shake her unless Angela's life was literally on the line.

However, a hand touched her face, and Angela closed her eyes instinctively, leaning into the touch.

'Months of serving others, of lackluster meals, and of uncomfortable beds? Heh. Your body is finally releasing its fury. Your nanomachines may be able to heal, but they do not create muscle from nothing, correct? You pushed yourself too hard…again.'

'…Perhaps you're right.' Angela mumbled.

'But that doesn't mean I wish to go anywhere without you.'

'Pardon?'

And Angela felt herself lifted up, carried in Fareeha's arms like a bride.

'F-Fareeha!?' She stammered. This was _not_ what she had been anticipating, and yet, her world lit up anew, and Angela could only sigh, actively trying not to shed a tear.

'Hmph. This is nothing. You're light.'

'B-but…!'

Fareeha huffed as she walked. Even with her strength and, perhaps, her nanomachines having evolved to support such demands, the mountain was steep, and Angela felt downright terrible for making her partner work so hard because of her lack of energy.

'Please. Just…leave me.'

'Never.' Fareeha snapped at last, frustration in her voice. 'Never, Angela.'

She was a woman of few words, in most cases, and thus, when she spoke, her claims carried weight. "Never". She meant it. So long as Angela allowed her to, Fareeha would be there for her. Forever. It should have been frightening. A year ago it was. Yet, now? Now, relief cleansed Angela's fears. She held Fareeha's neck tightly, breathing into her exposed collar.

'…Very well.' The doctor relented.

They took a break at one of the resting points, various little shrines and statues of foxes with scarves everywhere. Multiple tourists were snapping photos, even a pair of omnics relishing the ancient work of humans from the distant past.

'My!' Angela appraised. 'How mysterious!'

'It really is.' Fareeha stared hard at her surroundings, breathing a little more heavily than normal. She had carried Angela for well over one hundred metres up the mountain. She was quite the beast. 'The architectural prowess should be commended. How old are these little shrines? They're pretty.'

Angela giggled. She liked it when Fareeha expressed herself as such. Their life together hadn't been exactly stress-free, therefore, it was difficult to have such relaxed, natural interactions like this.

'I agree! Perhaps we should capture this moment together?'

'Oh! Yes!' Fareeha extracted her phone from her jean shorts, getting in close to Angela and putting an arm around her. She extended the device away from the two of them, having difficulty adjusting for just the right shot.

'There!' Angela instructed, and Fareeha snapped a few, taking a moment to evaluate her work with Angela.

'Our eyes are closed in this one.'

'Well, mine are partially. I look drunk!'

'Hahah! This one turned out well.'

'Indeed!' Angela paused, shaking her head slightly. She took a deep breath, and leaned into Fareeha. 'My apologies for my antics prior. You draw out emotions I'd prefer to remain hidden.'

'On the contrary, I'm honoured. It is my duty to help facilitate your feelings.'

'Heh. Your duty…'

'I…didn't word that properly. I just mean that I…I like being your confidant. I _want_ you to lean on me.'

Angela smiled.

'Then I shall. For as long as you'll tolerate my silly outbursts of insecurity.'

'You best be ready to have my support until our final days, then.' Fareeha blinked awkwardly, as if she had caught herself saying something strange, and then turned her face away, slight colour coming over it. It was somewhat out of character for her, which made that physical rhetoric more noteworthy.

'Fareeha?'

'N-nothing.' She stammered. 'Anyway, should we keep going? I don't want the others to worry.'

Angela raised a brow, but would leave it be for now. She could always bug Fareeha later.

'So be it. I shall attempt to walk some of the way this time.'

'Okay. Would you like my hand?'

'Very much so.'

* * *

Although it took a great deal of effort, with only an occasion or two of Angela taking Fareeha up on her offer for a small lift, the couple finally made it to the top of the mountain, where small vendors and a montage of individuals relished in their accomplishment. Statues of foxes were aplenty, and there was general excitement in the air as families in every shape and size went about tiny celebrations by taking photos and participating in the various games and events present.

'My! Even somewhat late in the afternoon this is quite the form of entertainment, isn't it?' Angela observed, finding joy in the communal scene.

'There's Brigitte and Hana.' Fareeha pointed, the pairing seemingly writing upon little trinkets. Angela's legs were perpetually in pain as she moved still, but she approached the girls regardless, peeking over Hana's shoulder prior to the young woman jumping and hiding her charm.

'No! You can't look! It's a wish that only works if it's done in secret and all that!'

'Well, you're gonna hang it up or whatever anyway, so, what's the big deal?' Brigitte laughed.

'But once I hang it it's ambiguous! Duh!'

'Do people still say that?' Fareeha blinked.

'I do!' Hana tapped her pen and rushed over to a collection of other charms, glaring back at the girls cutely.

'Shall we?' Angela grinned.

'Why not?' And Fareeha handed her a spare pen, working on her own. Angela thought for a moment, knowing it was a little silly to wish for much else considering she really couldn't be happier, but decidedly jotted a couple of lines down anyway, resisting the urge to see what her lady was scribbling quite readily.

"Allow me to remain capable of making the love of my life happy."

It was simple enough, yet Angela couldn't help but worry she was emotionally compromised due to her upbringing and way of living until recently. Fareeha was obscenely tolerant as well, which helped matters little. Angela held the charm lovingly, following in behind Fareeha and hanging hers up before turning, somehow catching sight of just a piece of her lady's writing as she did so. It was subconsciously done, perhaps with some purposeful intent after all, and she could only note two words that managed to perplex her infinitely.

"…please say…"

Please say? Say what? What more could Angela say that hadn't been said already?

The doctor attempted to brush the notion away. However, her naturally inquisitive mind was already working in overdrive with the desire to dissect whatever Fareeha could have wished for. The more the seconds passed, the more she found her head pounding in frustration.

Say what? Really, now. They had nearly said it all.

Angela leaned into Fareeha, muttering affectionately under her breath.

'I love you…'

This had some effect, perhaps because of its abruptness, but Fareeha simply smiled sheepishly, nodding with affirmation.

'And I love you.'

Hm. That wasn't it, then? Odd. Very odd, indeed. Curse Angela's observational skills. They were going to be the death of her.

'Heya!' Lena sauntered over, Amelie, surprisingly, not at her side. 'You made it up, huh? Did Fareeha here have to carry you?'

'Only a little.' Fareeha shrugged, not catching the fact Lena was joking, making the interaction even more comedic.

'Damn, girl! That's pretty badass!' Brigitte chuckled.

'Aw! Like a princess!? Jealous!' Hana pouted.

'Where's Amelie?' Angela wanted to change the subject, feeling the weight of her own insecurities again.

'Over yonder. Girl wanted a sec to check out the view.' Lena nodded down the strip a way.

'By herself? I will fetch her. I want to speak with her for a moment anyway.' Angela didn't ask. And she gave Fareeha a small shake of her head, knowing she would desire to escort her. 'I'll be back in a moment.'

'Okay…' Lena didn't sound so sure, but Angela could use the distraction. She shuffled past some omnics and a family; a mother and father holding hands while two children "ooed" and "awed" over this and that. Angela didn't even notice the way she slowed down, observing what was perceived as the "ideal". As the most "acceptable" form of affection and upbringing. Moira's words echoed in her mind. The truth about them haunting. Ana's apprehensions, despite her blessing. The fact even _the_ Tracer wasn't immune to ridicule. After so long, one would have thought any form of discrimination would have vanished, but perhaps there truly was something fundamentally wrong with the choice. Or was it biological? Did it even matter?

Angela ripped her eyes from the sight. It bothered her more than she wished it to. Husband. Wife. A man. A woman. They so naturally fit together. They balanced one another. It was undeniable how perfectly the two organisms complimented the needs of the partner.

Yet, Angela couldn't imagine being with someone other than Fareeha. She tried to picture it, and her heart physically ached.

Thus, was she demented? Was she flawed? Mentally unsound? Emotionally broken?

She and Fareeha would never be "normal", despite the word being subjective to begin with. Even during their work in impoverished cities – perhaps even more so – they were viewed with suspicion when not treating the mortally wounded. Two women who were so close. So very, very close. Strange. Acceptable, at this point in time, fortunately, but ever strange. Even individuals of different races, when paired together, were still given a second look. Strange. Just a little odd. Not _quite_ perfectly "normal".

'Angela?'

The cool, cold voice penetrated the doctor's steaming brain, snapping her back to the present and near the top of the beautiful mountain in Japan, red gates lining its spine and shrines decorating it like birthmarks.

'Amelie. My apologies. I was…thinking.'

'Heh. So it would appear.' The seductive woman looked amazing even in loose black pants and a tank top. Speaking of abnormal; it would appear Amelie had little issue with her skin colour anymore. She hadn't even mentioned the idea of having another operation. Perhaps out of consideration? Knowing Angela and Fareeha were perpetually busy? Some tourists knew of the nearly world-famous Amelie Lacroix. She had, indeed, made quite the name for herself dancing her wickedly powerful ballet. Talon had attempted to even abduct her again, from what Angela had heard. Unfortunately for the terrorist group, the monster they created had a will now, and that made her nearly impossible to capture with relative ease.

'I simply wished to check on you, if that would be alright.' Angela glanced back, happy to see that the rest of their group was having fun with the souvenir shops set up. Fareeha surely had one eye on her lady, but she didn't make it obvious, which was appreciated.

'…I'm fine.' Widow shrugged subtly. 'This life…is not so disagreeable.'

Angela stepped in a little closer, sensing Widow's tension.

'Are you and Lena well?'

'Heh.' The other woman smirked. 'It is a riveting relationship, to say the least.'

'One you're hopefully content with?'

A beat.

'I suspect as much as I'll ever be.'

She was holding back, but Angela couldn't quite ascertain why exactly. She decided to pursue the details, Widow seeming to be in a decent mood.

'Are you still romantically involved?'

Widow smirked.

'When I wish us to be.'

'Truly?'

'Hm.'

'But…what of Emily?'

'We are all content, Dr. Ziegler. Your concern is appreciated, but you are beginning to overstep, one might say.'

Widow's patience for conversations that didn't interest her was obvious, and due to everything Angela had done for her, she had gotten away with pushing harder than most. That didn't elevate her to being capable of avoiding this very conclusion, however. Widow was done talking of the matter. She was a private soul; primarily when her heart was involved.

'So be it. My apologies again, then.'

'There is nothing to forgive, _my dear_. You are only curious and, perhaps, deflecting concerns of your own?'

'Whatever could you mean?'

Widow nodded toward Fareeha in the distance.

'Trouble in paradise? Lena and I have discussed your seemingly flawless relationship once or twice, but it would seem, at last, _something_ is amiss between you two. How reassuring. You're both human after all.'

'An ironic thing for you to say.' Angela snapped, flinching back the moment she said it and shaking her head. 'I meant it…as a joke…'

It was partially true.

'Heh. It takes much more than that to insult me, _my sweet_. I am, indeed, still very much a monster, should I wish to be. Recent mission logs hidden in the depths of Overwatch's archives would reveal as much. Blackwatch, was it? Hmph. That commander of yours is being pressured for results. I provide them, in many cases. The killer is still needed, after all.'

Angela twisted her jaw. This woman had always been frightening, but she was even more terrifying now that her mind was mostly sound. Complete control of her body as a living weapon? Small wonder Talon valued her so.

'This is another war, to an extent, so, I hardly doubt it.'

'A brave face. I do not mind such blatant obstinacy.'

'I've changed over these past few years as well, you should know.'

'Then perhaps you would allow this lowly killer to offer a word of encouragement?'

Angela almost lost her balance.

'…Pardon?'

'Do not hesitate any further. What you have with that woman – that human – transcends anything I've ever seen before.' Widow stared off in the distance longingly. 'I treasure dance because I am not one for words, you see? They're far too restrictive. I prefer to do the binding; not the other way around, _yes_?'

Angela certainly didn't doubt that. Goosebumps tickled her neck as she listened to Widow speak, her voice as intoxicating as ever. She was a dominator without question.

'What I feel – no – what I envy between you and that admirable girl cannot be so easily contained in language. She would die for you again, and again, and again if it meant you were safe. As pretty as such claims are between fake lovers, she would do it without hesitation. Why, she has, has she not?'

'…Indeed.'

'I was bound by ridiculous notions of conventional normality in the past. Foolish girl. I reflect on such closed-mindedness with disgust.'

'How could you…?' Angela wondered. Had it been so obvious? Impossible.

'A humoured guess. I'm not wrong, then?'

'…Only when I imprudently allow my analytical mind to proceed rampant.'

'I don't doubt it with a brain such as yours. When the data cannot be quantified, how else is a scientist expected to react but with fear of the unknown? Of everything that rejects what is biologically sound? Why, I would suggest you are handling such paradoxical notions with grace, all things considered.'

This conversation hadn't progressed the way Angela had envisioned. She had always suspected Amelie Lacroix of being something of an extraordinary woman, but she was more than convinced now. Without Talon whispering into her psyche with every given thought, she was an individual worth respect.

'W-well…thank-you.' Angela nodded slowly.

'I am simply elaborating upon my observations. Nothing more.'

'They are appreciated, regardless.'

Widow rolled her eyes. This abrasiveness was strangely alluring, considering Angela _knew_ Amelie cared more than she liked to let on. Perhaps that's what drew Lena's attention so. Humans naturally wanted what they couldn't have, correct?

'Go. You've exhausted me.' Amelie demanded. 'And do stop this foolish tendency of over evaluating that which many would kill for.'

Angela left it at that, approaching Fareeha again and seeing the woman for the gift she was in her life. She was still curious about what that partial piece of Fareeha's wish had meant, but for now, she would at least enjoy the vacation for all it was worth…without concerning herself with the gaze of anyone but her lover.


	82. Bonus II: Brigitte

Brigitte

It was a memory she recounted so clearly she felt as though she were experiencing déjà vu. So vivid it assaulted her heart in recent days. She thought, maybe, that it was the first time her developing mind had truly begun to store treasures like this.

She recalled waking up alert, as if expecting something amazing to happen that day. The sun was brightly cascading through the Lindholm household, and she could smell her mother cooking breakfast, bacon and pie among the other delicious things she could whip up with seeming ease. As she rubbed her eyes and began descending the stairs from her tiny bedroom, a boisterous laugh like none she had ever heard before eroded from the main floor, exploding throughout the halls and engulfing her with a warmth she didn't know existed.

'How could you possibly not remember such a glorious battle, my friend? I single-handedly took down that God-forsaken omnic, its damned blade digging into my ribs as I tore its heart clean out!'

'Bah! I was too busy keepin' the rest of the machines away from ye. My turrets needed maintenance, you know!'

Papa. Papa and…someone else. His voice wasn't completely unfamiliar, but she couldn't comprehend where she had heard it. Looking back, it may have been filling her head with wonder since her first days on earth.

'And another thing: the omnics don't have damn hearts! They have cores! How many times do I have to tell ye?'

'Bah! Semantics be damned.'

'Language, boys.'

Mama. Her tone was somewhat fun but stern at the same time. She didn't even realize she had crept out from around the corner of the living room, gripping at her shirt and fidgeting with her mouth before the enormous man perked up, slapping his knee and grinning brilliantly.

'Brigitte! There she is! Come on over here!'

She did so only somewhat tentatively, feeling the guest's massive hands pick her up with extreme ease and placing her next to him on the couch, Papa on her other side.

'You remember ol' Reinhardt, don't you, sweetie?' Papa's tone became gentler.

Brigitte squinted, her temple throbbing with intrigue.

'Perhaps you'll remember _this_ story, then? Another battle full of justice, honour, glory, and Reinhardt!' The man bellowed, making Brigitte's chest throb with curiosity.

'Oh, how original! Hahah!' Papa chuckled.

'Listen closely, little lady, because someday you may find yourself in a similar predicament, only your wits and strength available to fight with.'

'Reinhardt, Brigitte isn't going to be fighting in the frontlines, you know?' Mama sighed.

'That's right! The girl has a knack for machines, like her old man.'

'Bah to that, I say! You never know. I see a fighter in this one's eyes. A fearless lioness!'

Chills ran her spine at the proclamation. A fighter? A Lioness? Looking back, it could have been lip service, and Reinhardt would never know the impact such words had regardless. As he went on talking of his incredible crusades, Brigitte's eyes widened more and more, her hands clenched close to her face and her mouth beaming with idolization. Papa laughed the more his old friend went on, and Mama could only look back from her cooking with knowing amusement.

None of them knew. Not even Brigitte. But that morning; that pivotal encounter, would shape the rest of her life.

* * *

'My squire…?'

'Yes.' Brigitte had never been more sure of herself. She had thought about it for hours and hours and hours on end as she worked on her latest project. As she crafted armour. As she covered herself in grease, sweat, and fatigue. She had to do more. _Wanted_ to do more.

Reinhardt thought about it, cupping his chin and gazing about thoughtfully. Scars littered his body. He was older now. Spots of grey were filtered through his facial hair and mane.

'What has your father said to this?'

'Papa?'

'I won't take his daughter and feed her to the dragons I conquer without his approval. It wouldn't be right. He is like a brother to me. And you…'

Brigitte scowled, feeling her nose scrunch in frustration.

'I'm old enough to make my own decisions! I want to fight!'

'…No.' Reinhardt answered sternly. 'Not the battles I endure. Learn from your father. Craft weapons on the field that can support me. Repair my armour. My role is not one fit for a young maiden. Not now. I am closer to Death than anyone else on the field. My shield allows those behind me to attack. And when my shield breaks, _I_ replace it, my body,' He glanced to his shoulder, an enormous crater carved across it. 'A living border between my comrades and injury.'

' _I_ will be _your_ shield, Reinhardt. I can do it. Trust me.'

He hesitated, then. He may have seen the fire Brigitte felt festering in her soul. The lioness he had called out years ago. The need to do more than repairs and fiddle with machines. The calling to fight in the frontlines where this man she admired more than any other resided. She thought she had him. She was wrong.

He reached for a strand of hair at the side of her face, his hand so large it cast a shadow on her, but Brigitte slapped it away, still frowning.

'I'm not a child anymore. Please. Let me fight with you.'

Reinhardt blinked long and hard, but simply shook his head.

'I will not kill you. You are too precious for a death like that.'

'Then what about you!?' Brigitte hated that her eyes were watering at this point. She had held herself together so well. Weak tears. Weak body. Weak sex. 'You're a hero, yet you thrust yourself into fights no mortal man should!'

A beat, an expression upon Reinhardt Brigitte had never seen. Despair.

'I…owe it to my master.' He left it at that, turning away from her, his titanic body seeming just a little smaller as he walked away.

Brigitte stormed out at the realization she hadn't won the approval of Reinhardt. Images of idolizing him as he told his tales of conquest stabbed into her sides, and she took her anger out on the projects she had started in her workplace, smashing anything that got in her way and scaring her poor cats.

'Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all!' Brigitte raged, catching a reflection of herself and grimacing at her spindly arms and developing breasts. If only she had been born a man. If only she wasn't built like her mother. If only she wasn't a pathetic girl. If only these ridiculous tears would stop streaming down her cheeks!

' _Damn it_!' She shrieked, kicking through a mirror and losing her balance, stumbling onto the ground and whimpering desperately. She lay there for a time, sobbing into her hands even as Mitzi purred and rubbed against her.

How long did she stay like that? Brigitte wasn't sure. But being the kind of person she was, she would always remember the sound of a switch being flipped. Her eyes red and swollen, she shifted herself into a plank position and pushed up. Then down. Then up. Then down.

It wasn't easy. She had developed some strength from all the work she had done in the shop with her father, but this was a different form of labour. _His_ labour. Muscle. Girth. Power. Glory. Her sex be damned. Her handicaps be damned. If her hero wouldn't train her, she would do everything herself. She would develop herself.

Up. Down. Up. Down. More. More. More.

It became an addiction.

Brigitte continued to work with her father, and Reinhardt seemed relieved she had appeared to give up on the idea of entering the frontlines of battle, remnants of the Omnic Crisis still lingering in parts of the world, but in the late hours of the night, when all was quiet save for the wind and crickets outside her workshop, Brigitte was training. Building. Breaking down and building more. Her cats loved her late-night attendance, but her body rejected the demands, struggling to keep up with how tirelessly she wished to become stronger.

Brigitte soon crafted a few weapons to try, each having its merits, but the custom Rocket Flail being her favourite, fit for her smaller frame despite her wishing to wield a battle hammer as impressive as Reinhardt's. She managed a makeshift Barrier Shield, again, a miniature version of the type her idol handled, but it made sense for how she wanted to fight.

She researched effective ways to train with weapons by herself, utilizing katas in conjunction with the wildly varying workouts she found effectively built her up.

'Yer gettin' some muscle to you, aren't ye, sweetie?' Her father had commented once, and Brigitte couldn't recall the last time she felt so complimented.

She stared at a new mirror in her shop, lifting her shirt and seeing definition forming on her stomach. She was getting thicker. Bulges were building on her arms. She flexed and adjusted her pose to see the gratifying fruits of her labour. Her chest was bigger too, unfortunately. Her hair was longer. Time was passing, and Reinhardt was still fighting alone…

* * *

'Look at her; all grown up and what have you? I leave for a few missions and I come back to hear you've been dating this and that?'

When had he returned? It had been years since they had spoken last. Papa had given little bits and pieces of his wellbeing, but Brigitte had been left to her own devices, training both her mind and body. She had joined a gym. Met a man. Let him take her on a couple of dates. Why did all of that seem so trivial suddenly?

'Reinhardt…' She uttered his name, her heart hurting.

'He just thought he'd pop in and say "hi", honey. Is that okay?' Her mother could see it. She could tell something was wrong. What that "something" was, Brigitte couldn't even say, but she felt strange.

'I must meet this boy. See if he's worthy of you.' Reinhardt jested, standing tall, his build as monstrous and glorious as ever. More scars. More grey hair. Yet, still majestic. More than Brigitte could recall.

'Now, now, old friend; Brigitte seems to like this one, so, don't scare the poor lad to death.' Papa laughed.

'Bah. If he isn't willing to fight for her then what good is he?'

'Enough.' Brigitte shook her head, stomping across the ground past her squealing siblings. 'I'm going to wait outside for him. I'll be back late.'

'Not too late, I hope.' Her mother enforced gently.

Brigitte stepped down the stairway leading to her house, sitting upon a tire swing and letting it sway back and forth amongst some trees, pieces of evening sun piercing through the leaves. She was wearing a yellow, flowing dress that reached down to about her mid-thigh, black leggings underneath, and a small jean jacket for accentuation. She had her hair down, and leaned back on the tire, watching the world pass her by from a new perspective.

Reinhardt was back. She should have been happy. Instead, she just felt anxious. Frustrated. Angry. Confused. He saw her in this silly dress. Everett said he liked such a style. Brigitte didn't. But she thought it would be nice of her to try and appease him a little bit. He was a nice man. Calm. Patient. Strong enough. Not stronger than Brigitte, to his frustration, but a personal trainer at the gym regardless. Square-jawed yet still somehow baby-faced. Couldn't grow facial hair to save his life. No scars.

'Brigitte…'

The tire stopped, and Brigitte opened her eyes, seeing Reinhardt looking down at her. How could such a large man move so quietly? How could an elderly being still seem so…gallant? So capable? So amazing?

'Hey.' She didn't know what else to say.

'I almost didn't recognize you at first in there.' He paused, allowing Brigitte to sit back up on the tire.

'Oh. The dress…' She pulled at the thin material.

'Well…that, yes. But also this.' He squeezed her arm, and Brigitte flinched back. 'Hahah! Back in the day I would've squished you like a grape! But now? Why, you've been doing some hard work, haven't you?'

'Here and there…'

'Very good.' Reinhardt nodded.

A long pause, and Brigitte searched for the right words to say. Attempted to manage the deluge of emotions passing through her soul.

'Your father says you've been training tirelessly for quite some time.' The legend went on.

'That's right. Even if you won't teach me, I can still fight.'

'Is that a fact?'

'It is.' She snapped angrily without understanding why.

'Heh.' Another break. 'How long until that boy arrives?'

'Twenty minutes or so.'

Reinhardt glanced to Brigitte and her papa's shop, smirking slightly.

'Care to show me what you've learned?'

Her chest flipped, and her eyes instantly burned. Unbelievable. Brigitte wanted to hide, but instead, eased herself off the tire and placed both hands on her hips, forcing a smile.

'Think you can keep up?'

'Hahah! You dare question my power?'

'Hope you're ready for some punishment.'

They geared up, Brigitte's heart hammering against her chest as she stripped her dress off over her head, a black sports bra containing her annoyingly bountiful chest. She tied her hair up in a ponytail and glanced to Reinhardt, his muscles rippling within his white, raggedy tank-top. He equipped a practise shield and hammer, adjusting the straps and twisting his shoulders.

As Brigitte did the same, her weapon more akin to the size and shape of her Rocket Flail, she understood this was what she lived for. This is what she wanted. The anticipation was ruling her. The desire to fight was stronger than ever. She had suppressed her wishes for so long, yet here she was, practically salivating she yearned so much for battle.

'Ready?' Reinhardt growled happily.

'Ready.' Brigitte raised her shield in one arm, gripping her weapon tightly in the other.

'Decent posture. Not bad at all.'

She didn't want to blush from the compliment, but she could feel the warmth coming over her face as she lunged forward, delivering the first strike widely.

'Heh. Fast.' Reinhardt appraised again, easily pushing Brigitte's attack to the side. She adjusted her stance, realigning her posture, and blew a strand of auburn hair from her eyes. She evaluated Reinhardt's form, seeing not a single opening. Even if there was one, the pure aura of capability made her muscles seize, her flustered initial strike seeming impossible to enact again with ease.

So, this was the lion of Overwatch. A living legend humouring one little girl. She wasn't even worthy of being his squire.

Screw that.

Brigitte shifted around him, locking eyes with the man and searching for a way to land a decent hit. Years of training. Of sweating herself to death. Of depriving herself of sleep to fit it all in everyday. Working with Papa. Working on herself. She didn't have time to be afraid. This was her shot. This was her chance to prove herself. She wouldn't squander it. _Couldn't_ mess it up.

'I like the fire in your eyes. Some men can barely stand before me without pissing themselves. Then again, I _am_ wielding a much more lethal weapon in those cases.' He chuckled, and it both irked and encouraged Brigitte. She loved it when he evaluated her positively. Couldn't get enough. She was on cloud nine simply being here, fighting this man she looked up to so. Since infancy. Since she could understand anything, even if she was beginning to become confused again. Her chest ached terribly.

'Hah!' Brigitte decided to lean into her strength over Reinhardt's: speed. She went for a flurry of attacks, but it was as though the man could read every move she thought up, hardly fazed as he deflected strike after strike, his feet not even shifting until Brigitte dashed to his backside, forcing him to show _some_ effort.

This was…frustrating.

'Powerful swings, but some movement is wasted, you should know. Less energy for something like this!'

Brigitte instinctively lifted her shield, and despite his weapon being made of hardened foam, she imagined she would have still been injured by the attack had she not defended at the last moment. She stumbled across the floor, dirt and dust scuffed on her right side, and Brigitte struggled to get up, her body jumbled by just how strong Reinhardt's strike was. She doubted he was even using his full strength. Such a vast difference in power. She could never be that strong. She simply wasn't built like him. Could _never_ live up to his expectations for a squire.

'Damn it…' Brigitte's voice trembled. In one blow, her reality, hopes, and dreams were shattered. She wasn't an idiot. She could see, clear as day, the gulf between them. How idiotic of her to think she could ever stand next to this legend through her own efforts.

'Damn it…!' She hissed again, tears forming in her eyes.

Fine. Point made. Enough with the charade. She would never bother him again. She would focus on what she could do as a support, as her father did. She wasn't a prodigy, like Angela. She couldn't fly through time, like Tracer. She was just a back-wood mechanic. A girl who had foolish ideas of grandeur.

'Is that it, Brigitte?' Reinhardt's tone sounded sympathetic.

'Yeah.' She pushed herself up into a sitting position, staring down at the calluses on her hands and feeling the burn of her torn skin over her arm. 'I got it. I won't waste your time anymore.' She stood, brushing dirt off herself. 'I need to clean up before Everett gets here.'

'Oh?' The man lowered his equipment.

Brigitte couldn't look at him. She was embarrassed. Ashamed. Humiliated. Years wasted. Her pride broken. Frustration swelled in her bowels. She wanted to throw up. But then, his words cut through, as they always did.

'I thought, of all people, that wouldn't be enough to shake you. You are Torbjorn's daughter, are you not? My best friend's pride and joy? Come at me again. Defeat is meant to be overcome. It is only through defeat that the strong are defined. You think I am invincible? Hah! Hardly. Although I _am_ close. One of the greatest battles of my life is one I lost. Think about that, Brigitte.'

It stung. She suddenly felt like a child again. A temper tantrum? Really? One setback and she was done? No. That wasn't fair either. A few setbacks. This one just hurt the most. Yet, Reinhardt had a fair argument. What had she been training for exactly? This. This very fight. She wasn't a little girl anymore. Time to show Reinhardt just how true that was.

Brigitte brandished her weapon and shield once more, narrowing her gaze and spacing her feet apart just right. She ignored the burning on her arm, and grit her teeth in preparation.

'That's my Brigitte.' Reinhardt uttered with approval, and a wave of joy like none other filtered through the young maiden. That joy morphed into energy, and Brigitte began her attack anew, only to be struck down again, and again, and again…and again.

'Yes. See how much power you have? See what you can endure?'

Her body screamed for relief, but she wouldn't stop. Not yet. Not when he was so close. Not when she had been reaching for his broad back for so long. Not when…when she had missed him so.

Brigitte pushed forward suddenly, propelling herself with her strong legs and using her shield to knock Reinhardt off balance. It was for but a second, but the man stumbled, notably shocked by the move, and Brigitte felt the sensation of her weapon tapping the man's shoulder before he smacked her down for the last time. Brigitte was gasping for air, her arms and legs literally trembling from the demands, but then Reinhardt began speaking, and her chest felt light.

'What on earth was that?' He asked with amusement in his tone.

'Shield…bash.' Brigitte revealed, her cheeks colouring slightly. 'It'll work better…with the armour I'm making.'

'Shield bash, hm? The one I use in combat is too large for such a technique, but for you…Interesting.'

Reinhardt approached Brigitte and helped her to her feet, but even after that, she couldn't remain stable, and collapsed into his arms, her heart pounding so hard she thought for certain the man could feel her whole body reverberating.

'You fought like a lioness.' Reinhardt told her, his voice in its rare form of honesty. 'You may be a cub now, but should you still wish it…I would be honoured to take you as my squire after what I've seen today. No normal person would get up after being down so many times. No. My squire is just as glorious as I. You have made me proud, Brigitte.'

She dug her hands into his arms, resisting the urge to cry with happiness.

'Thank-you…' She managed.

'Now go. Clean up. You have another task to fulfill yet. Everett, yes? He shall be here any second, I'm sure. That man better understand his fortune.'

'Hahah…Right.' Brigitte mumbled. 'Right…'

Reinhardt ended up teasing poor Everett mercilessly, Brigitte allowing the young boy to survive the encounter in panic the whole time. She hardly remembered the date. Her head was elsewhere. She was drunk with admiration and expectation. Reinhardt's squire. More time with her hero. The legend. Everett seemed so small in comparison. Brigitte had dated a couple of men over the course of her years training. Nothing serious. More than less a way of easing the longing she was beginning to recognize more and more. The yearning she wanted to ignore so desperately she allowed intimacy where she didn't truly want it. It didn't feel good. It didn't feel bad. It was nothing to her. Meaningless. This may have upset some, but Brigitte didn't linger on the thought.

She broke up with Everett that night. Didn't go to his place. No longer wished to see him. She found clarity in that particular area. It was a sad, tragic clarity, but an answer nonetheless, and one she made peace with as she lay in bed, flushed face pushed into her pillow and soaked hand between her legs uttering a legend's name under her breath over and over again.

* * *

'I thought we talked about this. You don't have to do this anymore.' They had. Many times. Brigitte saw the white that had engulfed every hair on his face and head. Saw the multitude of scars covering more of his skin than clothing no matter how many times she patched him up.

They were in an abandoned pub, the town evacuated further accentuating what they discussed, the world shuddering at what could be coming. Even as Brigitte went on, she was trying to convince herself, tired of seeing Reinhardt hurt himself, and tired of his answer to her wanting to fight from the past remaining still in a silent repellence.

'Winston's message wasn't meant for you.' Lies. She knew it while the words slipped out of her mouth. 'This isn't your fight. Papa told me, after so many years of service…You gave Overwatch everything, and then they pushed you out! Why would you go back to them?'

A stupid question. Reinhardt likely couldn't even hear her as he stared at his medal, that rare expression upon his face anew. Despair. Regret. A wound Brigitte could never heal no matter how much she wanted to. An injury he didn't speak of. A story hushed between her parents and this legend. Even after so much time together training and mending one another's injuries, Brigitte knew there was a weight upon the normally boisterous Reinhardt's shoulders she couldn't hope to lift in this lifetime. She hated that fact. Hated it with all her heart because of how much she truly cared. Cared more with every single day that passed.

'Come.' Reinhardt said simply, and Brigitte did so. She always would. They traversed through the graveyard that was once a prospering village in silence; a rare scene for the two who were often found jesting around one another. The ruins of a great battle. Omnics torn limb from limb. Blood still caked to the ancient rock. It was difficult to find humour in this space. It was even harder because of the solemnity that followed Reinhardt's massive form as he walked, glancing slowly this way and that as if recalling the fight scene by scene. Eichenwalde gripped a piece of Reinhardt's spirit, and Brigitte feared she would never know why.

The pair crossed a bridge, entering the musty castle and experiencing shadows of what used to be brilliance. Reinhardt approached the magnificent armour that lay in the throne room's chair, sighing deeply to himself and pausing, Brigitte wise enough to give him space.

Minutes passed, but still, she would say nothing.

Reinhardt slowly approached the throne, and even more definitively placed the Overwatch medal next to his master's armour. His low, rumbling voice spoke out, and it pierced Brigitte's chest, almost causing her to lose her balance.

'I have been called.' He stated clearly, half-turning with an expression that nearly broke his squire. An expression that told her everything she needed to know without understanding precisely why.

'I must answer.' And as he passed her, with all possible finality. 'Always.'

Brigitte hesitated for a moment only because of the impact of his words and the emotion behind them, but ran to the man's side, grabbing at his hand with unflinching strength.

'Then I answer with you.'

She expected him to reject her again. To treat her like a child. To pat her head and push her along her way. But instead, and perhaps even more painfully, he gripped her back, and simply nodded, a semblance of relief upon his face then.

'I would trust few others by my side.'

* * *

Those words were tested much sooner than either individual could have ever anticipated.

'Code Black? Ah, my friends, there is glory to be won already!'

'Code Black? The um…handbook said that means it's a terrorist attack on base. Is that true?' Brigitte and Reinhardt were already in full gear, training away as they frequently did at such a time in the day.

"Initiating security level 5. All Overwatch agents on guard and in position for enemy infiltration. This is not a drill. Code Black is now active. Proceed with caution. Do not engage with Talon agents categorized as threat level 4 or higher. Repeat. Initiating security level – "

"Boop!"

Only a fading red-hued tinge remained for illumination, all of the main power from Overwatch Gibraltar cut abruptly.

'Heh. Bold ones, are they? Let us go, Brigitte; to your maiden battle!'

Brigitte was glad one of them was excited, because as she and Reinhardt exited the southside docking bay and into the storm, they were greeted by a sight that Brigitte was sure she wouldn't forget for the rest of her life. A black-cloaked figure stood amongst a sea of bodies, the rain practically hesitant to fall upon his weighted shoulders, two large shotguns in both hands.

'They intend to hold the south with such a monster, hm? Very well…'

'I-is that…Reaper?' Brigitte followed in closely with Reinhardt, a small squad of other Overwatch agents having rendezvoused with them upon making their way outside during the chaos.

Reinhardt tossed his helmet to the side, the storm making such a piece of equipment near useless due to the risk of losing visibility.

'If you'd like to call him by that silly codename of his, then yes.' Reinhardt extended his arm outward, as if demanding those that followed remain behind. 'Gabriel Reyes! You dare lay waste to men and women still willing to fight for glory and honour? You shame yourself!'

The skull-masked individual slowly turned, the whiteness of his features reflecting the slight light Overwatch Gibraltar created despite the rain and darkness surrounding him.

'Hmph. Finally. Someone worth killing.' His voice crackled as if fed through a broken synthesizer. Brigitte's skin prickled, but she wouldn't falter. She wouldn't leave her master's si –

'Everyone back.' Reinhardt commanded, his head soaked completely now. 'You face this beast unprepared and you die. I fight him alone.'

'What!? No! His profile clearly stated that getting close is suicide!' Brigitte contested.

'Feh. And getting within _my_ range of combat means what, Brigitte? Hm? You know this better than any. He is delaying our movement to the main battle. I will not be taken so lightly. A traitor with a few whelps? Hardly worth concern.'

Brigitte squinted, and finally made out the collection of Talon agents along the back wall of Overwatch Gibraltar, simply watching one of the organization's best rip Overwatch's lower classed soldiers apart. There had to be close to thirty, their red and black masks as unsettling as Reaper's.

'You always were full of yourself, old man.'

'Hah! You're no spring chicken anymore yourself, Reyes.'

Brigitte grit her teeth. She knew she was expected to hold the line. If any of their men attempted to navigate to the front of the base where they were needed Talon would counterattack and further chaos would erupt. If Reinhardt were to bring Reaper down, then…

'Be careful…' She muttered.

'Aren't I always?' He grinned, turning back to the battle that waited.

Brigitte gripped her flail. _No. You're not. That's the problem._

Two opposing titans stood before one another for a moment, the scene potentially amazing to see save for the way Death lingered in the air. Brigitte knew her master was one of the strongest men in the world, but even he had his limits, and she was terrified of Reaper, her instincts telling her everything she needed to know about the man even without having the knowledge of his lethality through the profile Overwatch kept on him.

'Any last words, treacherous cur?' Reinhardt growled.

'I'm looking forward to crossing you off my list…'

Reinhardt grunted in rejection, exploding from his stance and into a full-on charge. As if anticipating Reaper's ability to blend with the shadows around him, Brigitte's master swung his hammer in a wide arc, narrowly missing Reaper as he appeared behind him, bending backward to avoid the strike. Reinhardt's shield went up next, and Reaper closed the gap immediately, both men recognizing the other's strengths and weaknesses while fighting accordingly. Shotguns echoed within the storm, and Reinhardt huffed, switching between his shield and counterattacking with everything he had.

It was a brief exchange, and the men and women behind Brigitte seemed to cheer in hope, but her more trained eye and better understanding of Reinhardt put her on edge. He was simply too slow. Reaper was overly skilled, and read every move Reinhardt made with enough time to adjust his tactics until Reinhardt's shield began cracking and even pieces of his armour started shipping away.

'What have they done to you, Reyes?' He gasped, thrusting his hammer upward and sending a blast of power crashing into the Talon grunts, the calculated technique missing Reaper, of course, but yielding damage to the other side regardless.

'Gave me the power to destroy those who used me as nothing more than a scapegoat! Now, let's see you deal with me _and_ defend those pathetic cowards hiding behind a little girl!'

'No!'

Reaper didn't need to say anything more. The Talon agents that survived Reinhardt's blast scattered, sprinting through the rain with their cybernetic enhancements in tow and burst toward Brigitte. She had been trusted with a task, and she wouldn't falter in her first official fight as part of Overwatch. Gathering the courage Reinhardt had bestowed upon her – the man who had taken a nobody and believed in her to be somebody – Brigitte raised her flail in the air with a snap and projected her shield before screaming at the top of her lungs.

'Rally to me…!'

And she fought. She fought with everything her body could physically provide. Her years and years of training paid off. Her dedication to every lesson Reinhardt bestowed upon her saw reward. She defended her allies. She pushed the opposition back. She healed those she could with the projectile health packs she had created herself. Brigitte was a warrior. Man? Woman? She wouldn't be restricted to a gender when it came to the fight. She was a defender. A soldier. An Overwatch hero!

She helped push Talon back enough to leave the rest to her comrades, and immediately jumped into the fray with Reinhardt, unwilling to watch him suffer any longer in a mismatched duel. She wouldn't lose him. Never. The emotions she held at bay for him swelled within her chest as she leapt into the fight, shield bashing Reaper unsuspectedly and allowing Reinhardt to finally connect with his hammer, the Talon monster stumbling back and laughing deeply all the while.

'This is no place for a baby cub…' Reaper threw away his guns, extracting two more from the void within his mysterious cloak.

'Brigitte…' Reinhardt uttered, blood dripping down the right side of his rough face.

'I told you,' Brigitte tightened her jaw. ' _I_ will be your shield.'

There was no room for argument anymore. Reinhardt had little ground to stand on. Thus, as she had done hundreds of times in her dreams, Brigitte stood side by side next to Reinhardt, the lion of Overwatch, and prepared to slay a dragon with her master and the man who had claimed her heart over a decade ago.

It was momentary bliss, but bliss nonetheless. Reaper truly was a magician of destruction, fading between the physical and spiritual realm unpredictably, forcing Brigitte and Reinhardt to attack practically at random, praying they would connect. They went back to back, easily moving with one another and holding Reaper at bay while the rest of Overwatch clashed with Talon. The black-cloaked man was among Talon's very best in terms of raw power, and if Brigitte could help down him, it would be an incredible success for Reinhardt and her. She could begin making a name for herself in Overwatch beyond being Torbjorn's daughter and Reinhardt's squire.

'Heheh…Too easy.' A demon's voice whispered in her ear from the darkness.

So close! When had he – ?

The pain bit into her nerves, tearing her flesh apart before she could even register what had happened. Brigitte stumbled, but wouldn't faulter further, gritting her teeth and shaking as she refused to fall. Blood had exploded from her side, and it continued to flow all over her armour, soaking the wet ground beneath her.

'A-ah…' She whimpered, huffing and forcing her eyes to stay focused.

'You coward! Face me!' Reinhardt's muffled voice screamed.

'In a moment.'

A white pain to the side of her head, and Brigitte was down, eye twitching and more blood soaking through her hair. Shot? Was she shot in the stomach? Struck in the head? She didn't know. She couldn't tell. All she knew was that she had failed Reinhardt, and the tears came in further frustration.

' _I'll kill you!_ ' Reinhardt howled, and the whole earth trembled.

It was pathetic because, even in the presence of utter defeat, she knew the lion of Overwatch rarely roared like that. Unfiltered rage…because Brigitte had been hurt. It wasn't a terrible way to go…

* * *

'Japan, is it? Have you spoken with Genji about the crazed place? He spent many years of his youth galivanting about in search of pleasure there. Perhaps he would have a word or two of advice to make the most of the trip?'

Brigitte had recently finished an intense morning training session with Reinhardt, having showered hastily and joining him for an early meal. They didn't dine together often, but she certainly didn't mind the private experience together, considering the time of day.

'I think we'll be good. Hana's coming with us, and she's been there a load of times because of tours and what have you.'

'Ah! Yes. I suppose that's true. She is a worldly girl. Hahah!'

'I'm pretty excited, honestly. Might explain why I wasn't the best sparring partner today. My focus was all over the place.'

'Bah.' Reinhardt waved the comment away, consuming his enormous meal happily. 'You were fine. A little sloppy, yes, but still leagues better than most. Always impressive, I must say. Nothing less from _my_ squire.'

'Heh.' Brigitte beamed.

'Still, best have fun while you can. Conquer some poor men while you're there, hm? You would have no problem adding a few notches to your belt, surely.'

'What…what makes you say that?' Brigitte's mouth suddenly went dry, Fareeha's words of encouragement haunting her more than she cared to admit.

'Well…you know what I mean! Hahah!' The man evaded, and Brigitte almost gave up, scared of pushing too hard, but perhaps more frightened of hearing nothing at all.

'I'm not very attractive to men, I think. Too strong. Hahah!'

'Nonsense! I mean, yes, you are built quite well for combat, but you have…feminine charm as well…surely.'

A flustered Reinhardt. Only Ana could get him like this easily. Perhaps it was a victory already? One more push would satisfy her.

'As a man, then…' She tried to steady her voice. '…what would be my best feature as a woman?'

'Your…?' Reinhardt blinked, finally lowering his fork away from his plate of breakfast. It was hard to see because of his facial hair, but Brigitte could have sworn his skin coloured just a bit. Maybe not. She wasn't certain. She couldn't meet his eyes anymore.

'I…I am just an old man now, Brigitte. My opinion means little to any maidens now. Hahah!' He didn't believe that. Yet, a modest Reinhardt was also a rare sight.

'We both know that's not true.' She felt a pain in her neck. 'Just tell me…for good luck!'

Reinhardt breathed out slowly, giving Brigitte a small glance before stabbing a stack of pancakes and muttering quietly.

'If I had to say…perhaps your…hair.'

'My hair?'

'It's a pleasing colour, I suppose. You take good care of it.'

Brigitte couldn't taste her food after that. So silly how she derived _that_ much pleasure from the simple compliment, but overjoyed she was, and as Reinhardt helped her load her and the other girls' things into their ride to the airport in Busan, Brigitte almost said it. She wanted to, but feared above all the repercussions of her actions. She couldn't lose him. Not because of her own selfishness. Even after so many years of being together, she knew what his answer would be. She had played the scenario out in her mind thousands of times. She had cried about it only a handful of occasions. The fantasies surrounding her most fanciful of dreams fueled her desires late at night when she could only rely on herself to fill her empty lust for a love that wouldn't be.

'Take care of yourself, Brigitte.' He said her name with such affection that it hurt as always.

'You, too. Nothing crazy while I'm away.'

'Yes, m'am.' He chuckled.

She hugged him. That wasn't an odd thing to do. But as they parted, she slid her fingers down his arm during the separation, purposely intimate, feeling the broken skin and muscles within it, and gripped his hand, pushing the love she harboured through the exchange as desperately as she could. This man was a living legend, but even legendary weapons needed a sheath, and if that was to be her role at his side, she would fulfill it willingly.

However, maybe someday…someday…

Brigitte then grinned, winking playfully but not without subtle suggestive meaning, and shrugged.

'Bye, Reinhardt.' And she didn't have the courage to look back at the expression he returned.


	83. Bonus III: Dva

DVA

 _I never hated the idea of being an idol. I liked attention. I liked smiling. It didn't sound so bad. Mom was super into it. She wanted to be an agent for stars, back in the day. I think she wanted to be the star herself, to be honest. She had to settle for trying to give me what she couldn't have though. I think it made her sad. And frustrated. And jealous. I could kinda sing. Kinda dance. I was kinda cute, maybe? She said I could do it. So, I tried. I tried a few times._

'And what do you have to offer the group?'

An assembly line of old men and women staring right through her.

'I can sing and dance!'

'What else?'

'Um…'

'S-she's also very cute, yes?'

'Heh!'

'So…nothing new to offer.'

 _It was crazy competitive. Korea wasn't exactly underpopulated. How many little girls wanted this? Plenty. I could sing and dance just sort of. Just decently. That wasn't enough. I had to beat the competition. Heh. That's something I could get behind, but it didn't mean I loved being stared at by a bunch of old geezers and judged in the most superficial way. Yeah. No. Lame. Hard pass._

'I hate going to those stupid auditions, daddy!'

'I know, my princess, but your mother is confident you have a talent for becoming an idol. During such times, K-pop has a place in this world, and it doesn't hurt to at least try.'

Hana gripped her PSX controller, easily perfecting another battle in one of her many strategy games. She switched to a racer, selecting the hardest track and jumping online to assert her dominance at least virtually.

'You're darn good at these video games though, huh, peanut?'

'Heh! Yep! Mom hates it when I play, but it's just too fun, you know?'

'Yeah. You're real good…' Her dad pulled out an ancient relic of a system, patting it down and extracting a game that looked like it was about space. 'How about you try some games I fiddled around with as a boy.'

 _I was in love with my dad. While my mom was always on my case about being the best and training to be a star, dad's quiet and calming voice was just medicine for all my frustrations. That, and he was totally cool with my gaming addiction. In fact, he honestly seemed to think I could make something out of my skills. I didn't believe him. Just dad being dad. But when he got me a chance to enter the fight, well, I guess I was too excited to let mom stop me._

'An audition to participate in an e-sports competition? Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?'

'But I want to, mom! I can do it!'

'Nonsense! It's a waste of time! It conflicts with _our_ schedule, Hana.'

'She's got talent with those games though, dear. Really.'

'I'm sure she does after allowing her to play so much, you lazy man! If only you showed as much dedication to helping _me_ with _my_ pursuits we could have unlocked her potential as a star by now!'

'Easy now.'

'D-don't fight!'

 _They fought. A lot. It wasn't, like, super dramatic or anything, but I noticed. I didn't like it. Some parents screamed and threw stuff at one another. My family shut one another out. Dad went silent, and mom raged inside. I played video games. Whatever. It really wasn't awful. People fought. The closer you are the more honest you can be with someone. It's easier to fight that way, right? It was a good thing, really. I think._

'I'm Yuna. And you?'

'Hana…'

'First audition?'

'Yeah.'

'Let's do our best, okay?'

'Y-you got it!'

 _I liked her right away. She was pretty. Sexy, even. She would be my teammate for life. We would have super cute nicknames for one another. I would bother her…for all kinds of things. This was the nicest I'd ever see her. Then, I'd get to see the real Yuna, and I liked her even more. Because she wasn't fake. Because she would fight with me. We'd be close like that. I loved it._

'She made it in! This could be another way to stardom, you know?'

'I doubt it. Gamers are hardly "idol" material.'

'But _you_ could help make it happen, couldn't you?'

'…Hmph. I suppose you're right.'

 _I had to win now. Mom and dad were happy for me. Mom was opening up to the idea of me being a gaming idol. I gamed like there was no tomorrow. I went online and fought the hardest opponents I could. It was pretty addictive. I just wanted to win. I wanted to outsmart and outplay anyone who'd let me. Maybe dad was right, after all. Maybe it wasn't just lip service. I should've known._

"Hana Song is our champion! What an amazing victory for the brand-new professional gamer! Her aggressive attacks and risky moves truly kept her opponents on their toes! Amazing!"

'Everyone! Thank-you for your support! This isn't the last you'll hear of Hana Song! Hahah!'

 _I…did it. I played it cool on stage, but I was dying inside. The lights. The cheering. The faces in a blur of admiration. Okay. Yeah. I get it, mom. This was a taste of what you wanted me to have, huh? Winning wasn't so bad. Nope. Not at all. I'd give my all at everything. I'll make both mom and dad proud. Then, they can stay happy. We all can._

'Hana! Hana! Are you okay?'

'Did we…win?'

'It's not always about winning, Hana! You almost killed yourself!'

The hoverbike lay in shambles, and Hana blinked her eyes into focus, seeing that she had flown across the finish line. Cheers pounded in her brain, and she smiled on the ground as medics rushed to her aid.

'We won, Dae-hyun. We won…Heheh!'

 _My first crush. How could I not? He was nice, handsome, and patient. Maybe a little boring. Maybe when I realized that I was okay backing off for Yuna. Yeah. She was totally into him. Part of me didn't like to lose, as dumb as it sounded, but I was focussed on other things. I had to keep winning._

"Another victory for Hana! Amazing…!"

'I want to thank my mom and dad, but primarily my dad, because he's the one that showed me gaming through the ages! I think that's what gives me a bit of an edge. Maybe? Hahah!'

 _Definitely. But dad was getting sick. He had to watch my e-sport competitions from a hospital's t.v. I ended up visiting him a lot. Mom sometimes came with me._

'Another sponsorship offer. Hmph. Just as I expected. Gaming will never lead to _true_ idolization. That demographic is pathetic.'

'Which company this time, honey?'

Hana aced another mission, taking her headphones off to listen to the conversation in the living room. Her three monitors blinked through various screens, and snacks were strewn all around her. Her father had been released from the hospital for now.

'Nano Cola. A wannabe charity organization. How pathetic. You won't scam us! If that much of your money goes out to support those in need then how can one company ever support itself? Utterly ridiculous.'

 _It was around this time the Gwishin really started to get out of control. They were getting smarter, faster, and stronger. Sounded like a sweet opponent for the military to take them out. But then I got a call, and everything changed._

"Hana Song?"

'Y-yeah?'

"Would you be interested in helping the Korean army combat the Gwishin by utilizing your reflexes in conjunction with our new line of M.E.K.A.s? Manual piloting is a requirement now, and you are one of the best, from what we've seen."

'Um…mom? Dad? We gotta talk.'

 _They put a bunch of us through crazy training, and only five remained after it all. Another victory, and better yet, Yuna and some of my other rivals and friends in the gaming community were hired as well. It was going to be so epic! The Gwishin didn't know what hit them. Our M.E.K.A.s were amazing!_ We _were amazing! I started streaming our fights and I got even more popular. Like global popularity! My mom was over the moon, and I was able to pour all the money being thrown at me into helping dad! I even got to be in a freaking movie! It couldn't get better! Which meant…it would only get worse._

'Hana…?'

'Yeah, dad.'

'Hana?'

'I'm right here.'

'Oh. There you are.'

Beeping machines. Tubes all over him. A room covered in white. Lines on monitors that were all over the place. Mom wasn't around. She was at another interview.

'How are you doing, dad?'

'Heh. Final life. Last speed run. I got nothing left, princess.'

'No…'

'I'm out of tokens. No continues left.'

'I'll…I'll be the second player, dad. I'm jumping in!'

'Good. Good. You're a special girl, Hana. Your smile…can help so many. Your courage…is contagious. Be the cheat code for those who don't know it. Remember? Up…up…down…down…'

'Left, right, left, right…'

'B…A…'

'S-select start…'

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeep.

'Start, dad…'

Beeeeeeep…

'Start, daddy…!'

 _I went on a date with Dae-hyun a few months after that. My agent told me it was a bad idea. Too many people watching. Too much risk. Being an idol wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I started to feel lonely. Really lonely. Mom was a different person. And dad was gone…_

'Kiss you? What the hell?'

'Come on, Yuna. Just a little peck.'

'Why? What's your game?'

'Just wanna know what it feels like!'

'What!? I-isn't your first one supposed to be special?'

'Sure. So, why not give it to one of my bestest friends in the whole world?'

'You're insane.'

'Maybe! Heheh!'

'…You really want to?'

'Yeah. Totally.'

'…Fine. Close your damn eyes.'

 _I think she knew. I couldn't put much past Dae-hyun and her. Yuna's lips were soft. And then they were salty. And then I felt her arms around me when I started crying. I missed dad. I missed feeling loved. Millions of people "loved" me, but not really. It was spectacular how isolated I felt when so many eyes were staring through me. Just like that assembly line of geezers. Eyes staring through me. Wondering what I could give them in exchange for nothing. Uber depressing._

"The city is still shocked after the recent surprise attack. Incredibly, thanks to Dva, no one was injured. She stopped the Kishin single-handedly and authorities confirm she has emerged without a scratch. She's currently enjoying some time off to celebrate her victory."

 _That might have been my turning point. I was done with the façade. I was going to be completely me from that point onward. I understood what dying meant now. Not only had my dad ran out of lives, but I only had one left, too, and it was time to start making even more of a difference in the world with the gifts I was given. Fighting the Gwishin by myself totally opened my eyes. I wasn't invincible. Nobody was. Life wasn't a video game. People and omnics all over the world were hurting because of the God Program and worse. I called Nano-Cola, ignoring my agent's stern warnings, and signed up with them. We had a bunch of events lined up almost right away. It was sweet. I had them show me exactly where the money was going. They were legit. Mom was wrong. About a lot of things. But she also gave me the push I needed to start making a difference. I wanted to help however I could. Maybe kinda like the heroes in my video games did?_

' _My name is Angela Ziegler, and it is an honour to meet you, Hana Song. What you do here for your country is truly admirable, and your support of those still in need brings me nothing but joy!_ '

' _Angela Ziegler!? Hold on! Like, THE Angela Ziegler? I don't even do the whole biology thing and even I know about you! Oh, my gosh! You're crazy famous! One of the original heroes! You're so beautiful!_ '

' _Thank-you! The pleasure is mine. Do you mind?_ '

' _Oh! Yeah. No problem. I can do English_. Hi!'

'Fareeha?'

'Oh! Hello! Fareeha Amari. You're doing good things here. Keep it up.'

'Hahah! The serious type, huh? Bodyguard?'

'Girlfriend.'

'Ooo! Really~? She's so tall and strong looking! I guess I can get that. Wait a minute! Amari!? Like…Ana Amari Amari?'

'Er…Yes. She was my mother.'

'This is insane! You're both super important Over – um – people! We _have_ to chat. Seriously. These are passes to a special club in Busan. It's very V.I.P. I want you both there. Say around nine-ish?' Things are getting messy, huh?'

Angela nodded.

'Yeah. Getting harder to hide it. Let's do some brainstorming. Sound good?'

'I would like that.'

'Sweet!Thank-you so much for coming! Feel free to buy some Nano Cola!'

'I'll take two cases. And I would like to make a direct donation to your M.E.K.A. program as well as whatever charity you deem the most beneficial for your country. I'll transfer the money immediately.'

 _She was blinding. Both of them were, in their own way. I really didn't want to stare, but it was hard not to for a whole bunch of reasons. I wanted to get to know them better. I was inspired by Angela's generosity. In awe of Fareeha's sheer confidence. I was curious about their relationship and the ridiculous affection that was practically oozing off of them. It made me think about my parents. It made me sad because I had refused to let anyone get too close since daddy died. Yuna and Dae-hyun still didn't know the real me. Sometimes I wondered if even I did. I was cocky, aggressive, bubbly, and free-spirited to most. But what did I really want? What did Hana Song want? I wanted to fight. I wanted to help those in need. But I kinda sorta wanted to "feel" something, too. I dipped my toe in that longing through Yuna, but it wasn't fair to her. She didn't swing that way. Neither did I. I think. But Angela and Fareeha felt safe, and in the back of my mind, I wondered what it would be like if I finally let myself enjoy life just a little more…_

'Do me, Fareeha Amari. Make love to me this instant.'

 _What I saw that night was burned into my memory. Well, maybe not "saw", but "heard", because it was dark in their apartment after we all finished doing karaoke and dinner (with drinks), and I only managed to groggily crawl to where some noises had brought me out of a semi-drunk stupor. Shifting blankets and moans of, like, insane pleasure. They were crazy into it, and I started touching myself without having any idea what I was doing. All I knew was my heart was pounding and my head was burning up. This was love. Real love. I ended up passing out again, but I still recall those sounds. Sounds I envied with all my heart. The missing ingredient to my perfect life. I wanted it. And when I saw an opportunity to have it, I just couldn't resist. Always go for the win, right? Dad would have said so. Ugh. It's weird thinking about him with_ that _on the brain._

The group of women made it back to their hotel after a delicious dinner out in the "old" part of Kyoto. It was rich with personality, and Hana had truly let herself bounce about with the spectacles present, snapping photos everywhere she could and forcing the various members of the group into them just as often. Lena, Angela, and Brigitte were all for it, but Amelie and Fareeha were less enthusiastic about smiling on demand. Amelie only showed a hint of intrigue when they spotted a geisha in complete makeup and dress, her elegance and poise nothing to sneeze at.

Back at the hotel, however, Hana would admit that she was pretty exhausted from all the climbing and walking they had done. The festival starting within a day wouldn't be any easier, but she was looking forward to wearing a cute kimono. She had worn one before for a photoshoot, but was pumped to see the rest of the ladies in their squad dawning the attractive way to dress.

'Who's hitting the hot springs with me?' Brigitte collected some things from her bag, like soap and shampoo for the rinse-off afterward.

'Oh! I totally will!' Hana jumped.

'That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. Angela?' Fareeha looked to her girlfriend, and she nodded with a small grin.

'Only if you don't mind carrying me. My feet are rather sore.'

'I don't see any issues with that.'

'I'm joking, Fareeha…' The doctor laughed, and Hana's face heated up.

It had been so long, but she just couldn't forget that night. She couldn't look at these two women the same. Curiosity drove her wild. The internet and her own abilities could only do so much. But she didn't want to just hook up with a random willy-nilly either. Thus, she distracted herself actively, this reuniting with the interesting couple sparking some buried feelings anew. What would happen if she just out and asked for some "help"? How would she even breech the subject? Sure, she was flirtatious with Angela and Fareeha, but they were locked into one another even after more than a year of dating. Would their honeymoon phase ever end? Did it have to?

More jealousy.

Hana collected her things as Brigitte did and shuffled out of the room, her cheeks pulsating with embarrassment. If only Lena wasn't in such a messed-up relationship. She would definitely jump at the chance to initiate a young lady into such a world. It's the only one she hadn't conquered, and it was like a loss Hana couldn't tolerate much longer.

'Hey!' Brigitte knocked on Lena, Amelie, and Sombra's room. 'We're going to the bath before bed. You guys want to join us?'

'Oi! That sounds great! Wanna come, Amelie?' Lena slid their door open, a trail of blue still fading from whence she bounced.

'Not at this particular moment, no.' Amelie was sitting in bed already, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with a small book in hand.

'Aw! Don't be daft, Luv. A good soak is a nice way to end the night, don't you think?'

Hana doubted Amelie would be swayed so easily, but Lena's influence on her may have been stronger than anyone realized for, while the mysterious woman sighed while rolling her eyes, she silently collected her things and approached the small group.

'See? You totally wanted to come.' Lena winked.

' _Be quiet_.' Amelie hissed in French, her accent disgustingly sexy.

'I'm glad you're joining us, Amelie.' Angela smiled, and the quiet beauty smirked as well, nodding in agreement. When had they gotten so close?

It wasn't long before the six women were disrobing in the bathrooms leading into the lady's side of the hot spring, an old fence made of authentic bamboo separating them from any kind of male. Hana glanced furtively about as everyone stripped to just a white towel, Brigitte hardly caring who saw her surprisingly pretty body full of muscle but not without attractive curves, as always. Lena wasn't terribly shy either, but opted to cover herself as everyone else did. When all the girls sighed in near-unison upon sinking into the water, Hana did a miniature evaluation in her head, as girls her age couldn't help but do.

Lena and she had similar bodies, really. Chests relatively small, but enough curve in their hips to make for pleasing backsides, Lena's perhaps a little more fit because of her occupation. Angela was about average in the perfect way anywhere you looked, which was impressive, considering her work. Her skin had darkened a little, due to being outside so much, but she had cute beauty marks sprinkled about her chest that added some kinky flavour. Fareeha, the tallest of them all, was solid and defined, her large chest and strong legs making her almost intimidating. She wasn't as built as Brigitte, which made her a little more "feminine", but her height and more square features kept her androgynous, and therefore, universally appealing. Brigitte had the largest chest, and despite all her muscle, she still managed to be super pretty and somehow soft, however that was possible. Amelie was obviously using some form of hack, because besides her chest being pretty darn small, the rest of her measurements could cause any of her lesser assured peers some confidence issues. Her backside, in particular, should be ensured.

'Hah…' Hana sighed, watching as everyone else joined her. 'This is the stuff!'

'You said it, Luv. Should get one of these installed in the base!'

'No way! There are _so_ many bathhouses in Korea that would be a crazy waste.'

'Oh, true! True!'

'This is good for the muscles after a long day of work. Our legs will thank us.' Brigitte leaned back, her arms outstretched behind her.

'Would you like me to massage your shins and calves, Angela?' Fareeha offered with a straight face which made Hana sigh in admiration.

'O-oh…Um…It's quite alright. My thanks.'

'You two are so cute it really makes me sick.' Lena giggled. 'Still going strong, huh? That's somethin' else.'

'Why wouldn't we be? Our compatibility remains perfect.' Fareeha shrugged.

'Indeed. It's not as though either of you are unnecessarily complicated with your emotions.' Amelie hummed.

'Hey!' Lena apparently took offence.

'I was speaking of myself.' Widow shot back. 'But if you are so self-conscious, then perhaps you will be included in the statement as well?'

Everyone laughed at that, and Hana decided to ask a question that she had thought about many times leading up to this moment upon meeting Fareeha and Angela.

'How do you guys do it though? I mean, it's insane how perfect you are together.' She thought of her parents. She thought of herself. She thought of a lot of things.

'I've deduced a rather simple two-step formula to our successful relationship.' Angela began.

'You have?' Fareeha smiled handsomely. God she was handsome. 'Go on.'

'I shall.' She nudged her dark girlfriend with her shoulder. Too cute. 'First, and perhaps foremost, one must be satisfied with one's self. This is a key component to the secondary ingredient, which is doing everything in one's power to make your partner's life better at every opportunity. If both parties participate nearly evenly, it tends to work out better than not. This is a simplified version. I could easily write a book on the matter.'

Hana nodded slowly. Her mother was disappointed with where her life had ended up. Her father…seemed content, overall, but neither his wife nor he worked to make the other happy very often. Huh. It seemed so simple, yet…

'We are doomed, you and I.' Amelie jested again, showing her teasing nature again and becoming more lovely for it.

'Ugh. Are we ever.' Lena agreed, going along with the joke. 'At least the sex is good.'

Amelie coloured at this, and everyone burst into laughter, Hana finding it hard to let the more serious side of the conversation go.

'Do you fight at all?' Hana asked, trying to sound light-hearted but past discomfort tugging at her heart.

The two women glanced at one another, smiling.

'Oh, here and there. I would suspect something to be quite amiss in our relationship if we didn't. It's healthy to have a good spat or two.' Angela answered.

'About what? Who loves who more?' Lena laughed.

'We both have the tendency to take…risks in our line of work. That's sparked a heated argument once.' Fareeha looked up at the dark sky. 'But enough about us. How goes your love life, Brigitte?'

'Huh?' The redhead blinked in surprise.

'Brigitte? Yeah. She's a little too busy with Reinhardt, like, all the time to bother.' Lena waved the topic aside.

'Oh? Is that true?' Fareeha grinned. Did she know something?

'…Pretty much, yeah. I'm more interested in training, anyway.'

'Tch. Such a waste. You could always try girls if none of the guys are doing it for you. Pretty sure you'd be a huge hit, Luv.'

'Hahah! Yeah, no. I know I'm in the minority here, but it's just not a thing for me.'

'Meh. Fair enough.' Lena locked eyes with Hana, and her heart skipped in panic. She knew what was coming next. 'And then we have our Eastern idol, right? How many boys do you turn down on the regular?'

'Me? Hahah!' Hana rolled her eyes to the side. 'Oh, you know. Idols aren't supposed to have boyfriends and all, so, I'm pretty inexperienced when it comes to that side of things. It's all good though. More time for gaming and working on techy stuff.'

'Wow. Speaking of "wasting"…' Brigitte sighed.

'Seriously, Luv. You're one of the cutest things I've ever seen. I'd bloody eat you right up given the chance.'

'Whore.' Widow snapped, but softened her tone despite Lena's shocked objections. 'But she isn't exactly incorrect. _Quite adorable_.'

'Take it from someone who knows, Hana,' Angela spoke up as well. 'My circumstances worked out in my favour, but I truly believe they were undeniably something of a fluke. Being married to work is no recipe for happiness for most. You seem like an individual that is more than capable of giving a great deal of love and happiness to another on a more intimate and honest level. I personally would hate to see such talent go to waste.'

Yikes. Small wonder she was a doctor. Angela worded it a little softly, but she was calling Hana out, and it wasn't completely unappreciated.

'Heheh…Well, maybe I can give it a shot sometime…'

Angela gave Hana a look for a moment, as if evaluating her, but then seemed to leave her be, and the rest of the evening went on without any issues. In fact, Hana really enjoyed everyone's company, liking the jabs Lena and Amelie exchanged on the regular, or the obvious comradery between Brigitte and Fareeha, or the strange but intense respect Widow gave Angela. It felt like a little family, similar but different from her M.E.K.A. squad. She was on an even playing field with these women, and they treated her like everyone else. It was nice. Really nice.

The conversation shifted to the upcoming festival, and obvious anticipation filled the area. It was going to be fun, without a doubt, and Hana beamed from ear to ear, thankful her somewhat unorthodox life brought her to this point.

'You've worn a kimono before, correct, Hana? I will be looking for your guidance when the time comes.' Angela nodded.

'You got it!'

* * *

It was dark back in the bedroom within half an hour of returning from the hot springs. Hana lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, her mind still abuzz and her thoughts erratic at best. Brigitte's heavy breathing was heard first, and then Fareeha's was the next to join her. Angela, unsurprisingly, was quiet, but the lack of movement in the room after little more than twenty minutes upon everyone wishing one another a good night indicated all were sound asleep save for Hana.

She wasn't sure what it was, but this setting, and the company, made her emotional and thoughtful, reflecting on the heartache from her past and the lack thereof within her present. She suddenly felt drained but sensitive, fighting back tears she didn't even know the source of.

An hour passed, and despite her fidgeting and flipflopping, Hana could only get up, go to the washroom, and sit on the toilet with her hands covering her face, an uncomfortable overtiredness making her loopy.

She pulled her tiny pink shorts back up, adjusted her white tank top, and stood at the entrance to the tiny extension of their room before breathing out slowly and climbing into bed.

But it wasn't her bed. She didn't care. This raw, unfiltered, undistracted pain wasn't going away, and she went to the one person she felt a bizarre attachment to. Not quite motherly, but something akin to that, maybe.

Hana gripped Angela's waist from behind and pressed her face into her back, clenching her eyes shut and feeling even more vulnerable. As soon as she was in position, she panicked, realizing she was being a complete idiot, and prepared to bail out, fearing for her life should the nearby Fareeha on Angela's other side awaken.

A hand held her in place, however. A soft touch from the angel of Overwatch gently accepted her, pulling her in without judgement. Angela turned over elegantly, her blue eyes shining in the darkness.

'I half-expected you.' She whispered.

'R-really…?' Hana mumbled back.

'Indeed.' Angela paused, sighing hesitantly. 'You're lonely.'

Hana didn't know what to say. Her eyes instantly watered, and she wanted to laugh it away, like she always did. Totally not cool. She wasn't someone to cry at the drop of a hat without someone calling "action" and a camera rolling.

'Yikes. And _you're_ scary.' Hana whined.

'Heh. I've been called that more than you think.'

'…Sorry.'

'Don't be. I'm a doctor. It's what I do. If this helps, then so be it. So long as I'm around, my door is always open. But we also don't have to talk at all.'

'Thanks.' Hana meant it, but she also couldn't stop her body from heating up. This closeness was…freaky. Even in her imagination she didn't think the temptation would be so intense. Her feelings were zigzagging. Her needs were all over the place. She was drunk tired. Maybe that's what gave her the courage to do the ridiculous. There were too many contributors to list. Carnal desire and curiosity urged her forward. Years of restraint. Years of giving but never receiving. Memories of that incredible scene she only heard.

Hana sucked in air with a quick huff and shifted Angela's hand between her legs, holding it in place and breathing out shakily.

'B-but what if I need help…um…here?'

There was a pause, and Hana pushed Angela's touch away despite herself, sobbing in embarrassment and shifting to leave.

She had officially lost her mind, and remaining would only make everything worse. It was late. She was obviously beyond exhausted and mentally insane. Time to go. Escape. Run, run, run!

Yet, she was stopped again, and Angela's voice sounded unlike her somehow.

'A moment, Hana…J-just a moment.' She turned to Fareeha, mumbled something to the woman when she knew she was awake, and waited.

Ah. So, this is how Hana died. Cool.

Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool. Cool.

Fareeha uttered something back, but didn't _seem_ mad. Then again, this could have been wishful thinking. Angela spoke for a little longer this time, and after a painfully long silence, Fareeha's lower voice seemed to submit.

'Hana.' Angela turned back to her, the doctor's words understandable again.

'I'm sorry. Seriously. I'm really, really sorry! I'm, like, half-awake.' Hana tried, but a slender finger was placed at her lips.

'Listen to me carefully, understand? Your intentions are not malicious. Anyone in my field would understand that. However, I _do_ believe you long for this form of attention in a safe environment before allowing yourself to seek it out on a more personal level. I will not poke and pry into your past, but if this shall help you make progress, then Fareeha is graciously allowing a level of controlled assistance.'

'Um…what?' Was this a dream? If so, she would likely wake up any second, right?'

'Two ground rules require defining.' Angela went on, her voice heavier. 'Firstly, you allow me to lead. Secondly, you cannot touch me suggestively or kiss me. Is that understood?'

'I…uh…sure?' What else could she say? As Hana herself contemplated that very question, her voice almost squeaked out loud enough for Brigitte to hear her, but Fareeha's hand was covering her mouth from behind Angela, and Hana's eyes crossed for a second, her whole body lurching forward the moment she felt two slender fingers begin massaging the front part of her shorts, the fabric bunching between her legs.

'My thanks, Fareeha…A-ah…' Angela breathed, and Hana wondered if she was also receiving some form of "treatment" from the quiet woman nearby. There was some flinching movement near the doctor as well under the covers.

But the moments melded into one another immediately thereafter. Hana's eyes glazed over and her hips were moving with Angela's perfect touch. When did her shorts fall to her ankles? Why was Fareeha on her other side now? Who's fingers were in her mouth to muffle her intensifying moans? Her tiny red panties were being stretched, and just when she wasn't sure her senses could be more overloaded, she gasped in a high-pitched squeal and gripped Angela's wrist as tightly as she could, the doctor delicately sliding in and out rhythmically.

'Oh…my God…' Hana groaned. She didn't recognize her own voice as she fell into desire further, a warmth pressing against her back in the form of Fareeha while Angela worked her over mercilessly. The two women kissed atop of her, and without thinking, Hana awkwardly joined them, the exchange both dramatically erotic yet equally strange.

Fareeha settled into the act more after that, her strong mouth sucking upon Hana's breasts, her shirt bunched up under her chin and her mouth covered once again. She was on her back, and the restraint applied to her only amplified the experience.

It was game over.

Hana's eyes rolled back, her neck tightening alongside the rest of her body, and a release like nothing she could have possibly expected overtook her, causing her shrilling voice to claw through her throat, the convulsions coming at regular intervals, and the pleasure fading but embedding itself into her brain.

'K.O…' She hummed dumbly, submitting to unconsciousness almost immediately thereafter, a silly grin stuck upon her sleeping visage.

 _When I woke up the next day, I had to really think about what the heck had happened the night before. Fareeha was impossible to get a read on, like always, but Angela gave me a kind, motherly smile that made my stomach turn before putting her finger to her mouth as if telling me we now had a pretty big secret between the three of us. I was super lame and awkward after that, totally unsure of how to handle myself for the first half of the day. Fortunately, for my sanity, I had a good long chat with Fareeha and Angela, and that helped a bunch. Like, a lot. Pretty much a free therapy session. A mental one this time. The physical was long done, and it wasn't as weird from then on. If anything, it made me a little crazy and not so scared of…stuff._

 _Angela is better at the details, so, maybe I'll let her get into the nitty gritty. I'm just a bonus character and all, so, for now, I think I'm good with that. Take from all this what you will, I guess? Me, personally? I don't think I have any regrets going forward, and that's a win, right? I can't have any. I saw what that sort of life is like…and it sucks._

 _GG._


	84. Bonus IV: Sombra

Sombra

Sombra hated the concept of a "hero". Even after the word was tossed around her considering what she accomplished during Overwatch Gibraltar's final battle and the way she had single-handedly saved Angela's life, "hero" was repellant to her very person. She would just as quickly betray the organization that had so gracefully taken her in if it meant survival.

It was her nature.

A girl didn't recover so easily from being forced to eat out of the trash. From crying for a "hero" when the world crumbled around her and red-eyed omnics killed everyone she loved. No. A girl learned to survive by any means necessary. That was her reality then, and it wasn't changing anytime soon.

* * *

'A computer? The hell you gonna do with that, little lady?'

'Oh, this and that. How much?'

'More than you'll ever have…or can steal.'

'Heh. I wouldn't be so sure about that. I can be plenty resourceful.'

'You talk big for a kid.'

'Meh. The whole orphan thing, you know? Makes a girl grow up.'

She had used this guy before to get little things, but Olivia knew she needed a computer now. Anything that could connect to the web. Hours, and hours, and hours of learning the ins and outs of a computer; of the collective information available to the ignorant masses, and she was finally ready to take the next step to getting out of Mexico at last.

She was lucky…all things considered. Olivia had a knack for it. Her mind worked in numbers, equations, and probabilities. She could command technology so long as it had a source code. Her brain was its own supercomputer. Combine that with an _actual_ computer and Olivia was sure she could make some magic happen. She could only utilize public domain terminals so much. It was time to move forward.

Teb. It was a dumb name for a dumb looking dude. But that same idiot was willing to humour Olivia's needs here and there. Surviving meant rubbing shoulders with some unsavoury folk, but it was a life she was more than accustomed to…until a weird look came over Teb. Still a stupid name.

'Guess that's true.'

'So, we got a deal?'

'This is asking for more than my table scraps, little lady.' Teb turned, his back massive and tattoos littering every piece of muscle on him, his sleeveless, torn-up shirt doing little to hide his intimidating physique. 'This might be something of a "special" sort of establishment I'm running here, but that doesn't mean I can just _give_ you the kind of computer you're looking for.'

'Yeah. Whatever. How much?' She insisted. It was something of an act at that point, because Teb _was_ a little scary. He was nice enough to Olivia, as strange as it seemed, but even as a younger teen, she could tell there was a deep darkness in the man's eyes she didn't want to get too close to. Since its fall, Mexico wasn't the nicest place to be for most. Olivia couldn't be picky about who was willing to help her.

'Isn't it past your bedtime?'

'Don't have one.'

'Yeah. Figured.'

'Look, I'm being nice and not stealing that little rig you got in your ghetto office, so, can you just tell me a number so I can get you some money?'

Teb chuckled dangerously.

'You touch my shit and I'd rip your Goddamn arm off.'

There it was. The reason Olivia kept her wits about her with this man. He meant it. She had crossed a line. But, at the same time, had pushed for an answer, finally.

'You want a computer that bad, it's gonna cost you.'

'Uh, yeah. I know. That's why we're having a little chat. I'll get the money…eventually.'

'Nah.' Teb turned fully, stepping in close and kneeling down so his massive form was parallel to Olivia's smaller one. 'No money. You want outta here so bad you pay up for everything I've given your grubby little hands until now and more.'

'…What?' Oivia's throat tightened. She had never ripped Teb off. The hell was he going on about?

'You still don't know? Thought you were smart.'

She waited, unsure if the answers her brain was spewing out were ones she was prepared to confront.

'Oh, I know.' Olivia did absolutely everything in her power not to let her voice shake as the numbers clicked into place, aligning with the most probable answer to the conversational equation before her. 'Just didn't peg you for a lolicon. Freak.'

Teb snickered at that, surprisingly. For some reason, it made the fear settle in more savagely.

'Turn around. Don't make a peep. Do that, and you can have the fucking computer.'

She wasn't entirely shocked. Not a bit. It was the world she lived in, after all. It was only a matter of time. Still, the reality of Teb's word scared her more than she would ever admit to a soul. But being scared rarely meant surviving, and Olivia was done with this shithole.

She turned, feeling the rough wall of Teb's backroom against her hands. His barely-legal "shop" was closed. It was dark out. The neighbourhood was quiet. If she screamed, _someone_ would come. It wouldn't matter. She'd be dead a second later, no doubt. She could just steal the piece of tech when Teb wasn't looking, couldn't she? No. He had more influence than she knew. That was obvious. The fact this was her first time being put in such a position solidified that fact. The psycho was saving this. Fuck him.

'Not. A. Sound.' He repeated so close to her ear Olivia felt the hot breath.

She nodded. Whatever. If this was all it took to have a chance at living a life, what did a little manhandling mean to her? Nothing. Survive. That's what she'd do. Everything else just didn't matter.

His hands were rough. Calluses, scars, and old skin rubbed against her backside, her bottom half naked save for the clothes bunched at her feet. Then, the indescribable pressure. Pain beyond what she could have ever prepared for. She thought she was going to die. She really did. The veins in her neck protruded to the point she thought for sure they'd burst. Her stomach was definitely going to rupture. Her legs were covered in blood.

Thankfully, it didn't last long, in retrospect. A little over five minutes, at best. It felt like an hour. Olivia lay on the ground, holding her groin and still biting hard on her bottom lip, crimson dripping down her neck.

'Tch.' Teb clicked his tongue, leaving to the main area of his shop and bringing Olivia a brand-new piece of hardware. He slammed it roughly next to her, muttering something under his breath.

'Thought for sure you'd say _something_. Tough as nails. You'll be fine. Now, get the hell out of here.'

She knew refusing him would be a very bad idea, so, despite the agony her whole body screamed about, she took the box containing a brand new, state-of-the-art laptop, and stumbled her way through the darkness to her hole, immediately preparing the computer for work. By the time she could begin fiddling, over an hour had gone by, and her bowels were finally starting to not feel like a hundred knives were stabbing into them.

Olivia jumped onto the web, and millions of paths opened up to her. It took her no longer than a week to learn everything she needed to about the laptop with the knowledge she already had. Less to begin blackmailing and hacking her way to a stable lifestyle. Even shorter to officially join the Los Muertos.

It was a domino effect from there. The retrieval of information became an addiction to her. She used her gift to manipulate anything and everyone around her. It was only a matter of time before she was out of Mexico and moving on to bigger and better things. What she deserved after being tossed aside by the world….

…Until seven single eyes were staring at her from seven different screens, a blood-red background practically pushing their white outline into her retinas. The experience with Teb was the most frightened Olivia had ever been until this moment. As if a primal terror forced Olivia back, she destroyed everything to do with her old self and re-emerged as Sombra; just in time to join Talon and take another step up the ladder. She'd never forget what she stumbled upon that day, however. No. She had a personal vendetta against the world, and what she felt and saw that day alluded to a conspiracy that involved the planet's most powerful influencers.

Just a few more steps.

A few more "deletes".

A few more "friends".

Talon provided her an end to her means well enough, and it was surely only a matter of time before Overwatch did the same…

* * *

'Oi! There you are! Was wonderin' where you slinked off to!'

And then there was this one. Tracer the "hero".

'Can I help you?' Sombra was enjoying a morning drink at one of the many internet cafes sprinkled throughout the land. She blew on her coffee, eyeing the strange girl with a curiosity she adapted during their first meeting in Numbani. Out of everyone she had met in recent years, Lena bothered her less than she would have ever guessed. She was hopelessly optimistic and dumb, but there was a purity about her that Sombra observed with intrigue. Didn't have to claw her way out of a trash heap, after all. Still, "fun" was only had when Sombra was twisting others to her needs, in most cases. That day she joined Tracer for Lucio's ridiculous concert wasn't a terrible use of her time. Too bad her employer had paid her a hefty sum to help get Doomfist out of captivity…not that he needed _that_ much assistance.

Nonetheless, Lena had, at least, more personality than "Widowmaker" and Reaper upon first meeting them. Amelie was definitely more interesting; way better than the cold slab of girl initially introduced to her. And Gabe was a hoot for teasing, but his emo thing got old quick. The boss was fun to play around with though. That "Nemesis" thing he housed for a bit fried some of Sombra's interwoven cybernetic enhancements, but the information she had managed to grab was more than worth it.

Another step up the ladder.

Talon's real leader was still something of a question mark, but Sombra had a feeling she was getting closer to solving that particular mystery. If her hunch was right – and it rarely wasn't – the world wasn't ready for that reveal. Which meant Sombra was more than willing to draw back the curtain when she could guarantee an escape.

'Nah, Luv. Just getting' ready to head out to meet Emily. Should be landing soon and all. Thought you might wanna join me.'

The hell?

'Why would you ever think I'd be interested in that? Spider leave you hanging?'

'Hah! No. No way.' She was simply hilarious to watch. 'She's just…uh…reading lots this morning, you know? It's a book _by_ Emily, actually. Neat, huh?'

'Yeah. I know. It's not the worst thing I've wasted an hour on.' Sombra rolled her eyes, grinning in anticipation.

'Well, you gotta read more than that to get a handle on the…er…stuff, don't you?'

'Hahah! I _did_ read all of it, sweetie. Ever heard of a little thing called speed-reading? Yeah. I do that. Need a description?'

'Oh! Really?'

'Yeah. Obviously you didn't get through the whole dealio, because you're all over the place trying to talk about it.'

'E-Emily knows I have a touch of trouble sitting still.'

'No way…!' Sombra giggled.

'Don't be daft, Luv.'

'I guess Spider is getting a "reward" tonight for showing that kinda dedication.'

'It's…not exactly like that.'

Heh. Fine. Sombra could understand that kind of look. In fact, she sort of appreciated the way Lena was willing to make a face like that around her. Vulnerability…wasn't easy for everyone.

'The fact you have something to even talk about with those two blows my mind. You might be a better hacker than me when it comes to breaking into people's emotions and whatever.' Not that Sombra couldn't do it. She could. Quite easily. It involved mail of the darker kind.

'Hahah…Yeah. I know. It's…completely crazy.'

'That's putting it lightly. But it doesn't concern me, so, what do I care?'

Lena waited a second, but then shuffled in a little closer, leaning into Sombra's space and peeking at the five miniature screens she had projected.

'Easy. You're popping my bubble, missy.'

'Whatcha lookin' at?'

'Porn.'

'W-what!?'

'Wanna help me rub one off?'

'Jesus, Sombra!'

'Aw. You're turning red. Didn't peg you for a shy one with that stuff.'

'I was just surprised. You're obviously lying.'

'Don't sound _too_ upset. Still thinking about that kiss?'

'No!'

'Yeah. I think about it, too, sometimes.'

Lena groaned again, leaning back in the enclosed space and twisting her jaw around. Sombra didn't really get why she tolerated the loud girl as much as she did, but she had a piece of sympathy for her, for some reason, and tapped at her screens, bringing up information regarding the U.N. and various key members of Talon.

'I was just doing some research.' She started, sipping more of her drink. 'Think I'm getting close to cracking something big. Like, Spider's ass big.'

Lena laughed at this, and Sombra grinned alongside her.

'You're incredible, you know that?'

'Uh…yeah, dude.'

'And so humble!'

'Look, I didn't get where I am today by being humble, get me?' That came out more passionately than she wanted it to. Lena, for once, seemed perceptive enough to notice.

'I bet. You sorta touched on that before, huh? Not a whole lot of info on you, so, I've just been guessin', but…you've had a tough go of it, haven't you?'

'Dug around for some dirt?'

'Nah.' She waved Sombra off, unfazed. 'Just curious, I guess. Worried too.'

'I'm a big girl. Don't waste your time.'

'But it's gotta get lonely, right?'

'…Nope. I'm good.'

Lena obviously wanted to say more, but she respected Sombra enough, to the girl's surprise, to leave it at that.

'Alrighty. So…you don't wanna come?'

Sombra rolled her eyes theatrically, snapping her fingers to make all her monitors disappear.

'Reception is shit here anyway. I'll walk around a bit with you to find a better hot spot.'

'Yeah?'

Her eyes were bright and pure. They were blinding. Small wonder Spider crawled to them, battered and bruised as she was. How could anyone resist that with a shred of faith in the world? Fortunately, Sombra maintained her cynicism enough to turn away…like she did with anything that even hinted at making her feel something but disconnect.

* * *

Being with Lena was about as terrible as Sombra thought it would be. If terrible actually meant feeling a semblance of normality. Sombra wanted to resist the girl's nauseating optimism and positivity at every turn, but maybe the last year in Overwatch had made her just a little softer, because as they moved about the city of Kyoto, just the two of them, an old bitterness began boiling in Sombra's stomach, and she saw the world with anger and frustration, the fact she had to grow up doing everything and anything to survive simply because of her roll of the die and nothing else truly maddening.

'You like this kind of stuff, right?' They were near one of the many "game" buildings filtered throughout Japan's more populated areas. This one had what looked like a giant steam bun smiling "cutely" (creepily) at whomever wished to look upon it. Loud sounds of machines and casino-like buzzing whirred within, and Sombra shrugged.

'Meh. I can usually figure out how to win the best stuff, if that's what you mean. There's always an exploit somewhere.'

'Yeah?'

'Uh…yeah.' Sombra stuck with her normally belittling delivery, although Lena's lack of a reaction only made her feel bad. Just a little.

'Mind helpin' me win something for Emily as a little souvenir, "welcome to Japan" thing? She's never been.'

'…We'll see.'

She wasn't completely against the idea. The two girls entered the building filled with silly games meant primarily for "gamblers", considering Sombra could immediately tell most of the mechanics involved (such as crane games) were horribly rigged but cheap enough to try. She scoped out the area as lights flashed, noises beeped, and creepy, smiling steam buns beamed in her eyes and ears. It wasn't overly crowded, thankfully, and Lena seemed impressed enough with it all.

'How about this one?' Lena pointed at a crane game on the second floor, the prizes a little modest, but fitting for Emily, as far as Sombra knew. Little stuffed bears, pigs, foxes, turtles, llamas, and the like were piled into the glass container, their designs so "cute" is was unsettling. They were more like balls with legs than anything, but Sombra didn't care.

'Your money.'

'True enough!'

And she started at the machine, tongue pressed against her upper lip and eyes staring daggers through the glass that separated her from the gift she sought.

'Mommy! It's Tracer!' A kid called out, and Sombra's neck tensed.

Suddenly, a group began to form around the girl, and she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head as she belittled the compliments thrown her way. Sombra slowly backed away, figuring this was a common thing and wanting not to be part of it whatsoever.

'I'm actually here with my friend! Sombra! Over here!'

The crowd turned, omnics, men, women, and children curious about the hacker as she cocked her head and shook it slightly.

'Nah. I ain't her friend. Just a colleague.'

'Aw! Rubbish! Get on in here! Sombra is great! Saved my neck once or twice!'

'Almost slit it, too.' Sombra mumbled, feeling Lena's hand pulling her in.

'Psh. That's the past, Luv. No biggie.'

'Are you serious?'

'Totally!'

'…I need a drink.'

It was awful, but not for the reasons Sombra might have assumed it to be. Tracer really was a "hero" for more than just fighting in the Omnic Crisis. She was a beacon of hope; hope Sombra never got to see or feel without making it herself. The more the crowd praised Tracer for everything she had done, the more frustrated Sombra became, innately aware that she rarely let herself be anything but humorously indifferent. Lena had this effect. Sombra had felt it before throughout the base in Korea. Maybe that's why she was so adamant about keeping her distance. She hated this feeling. She hated feelings in general. If she let them creep in too much, she might short circuit.

Thankfully, Tracer was also pretty good at dispersing a crowd, and jokingly went on about having to nab a gift for her friend, allowing any last pictures to be taken before she was left alone (for the most part), with Sombra again.

'Brutal.' Sombra huffed.

'It can be tiring, but they _need_ people like us.'

'Us?'

'Yeah, Luv. You're totally a hero now. Didn't you know?'

'A hero that'd betray you without thinking twice about it? Sure. Okay.'

'You ain't like that. I know it.'

'You forget about the little attack on base I let happen? Shut down the network and power so Talon could get in and kill a bunch of your friends?'

Her face twisted a little at that, which wasn't satisfying, surprisingly.

'Well…no. I didn't forget about that. But you tried to warn me.'

'I was trolling you, Tracer. Did I really give you time to counter anything? No.'

'Fine. But I believe you see the world a little differently than me. In fact, I know you do. Sure, I had a rough go of it with the whole disappearing thing I pulled, but you arose above the wreckage of war, right? Somethin' like that?'

Sombra felt her eye twitch and then scoffed, throwing some money into the machine Lena had been working on and muttering under her breath.

'…Which one?'

'Which…? Oh. Um. The fox?'

Sombra sent a wave of data into the machine and brought it into her brain, connecting to the mechanics with the simple piece of entertainment and controlling the hook remotely. She enhanced the gripping capabilities of the extension and easily claimed the prize Lena sought, placing it in her hands and flicking her head.

'I'm outta here.' Sombra claimed, but Lena grabbed her wrist lightning quick and pulled her in again.

'At least until the airport? I don't fancy riding in the taxi by myself.'

Why couldn't she say "no" to her? Probably the same reason she was the poster girl of Overwatch. Or so popular as a hero. Or why she could transform Spider so profoundly. She was a beacon of light. Warm, safe, comforting light. A luminescence Sombra couldn't remember knowing.

'…Fine.'

* * *

Emily was smart enough to fly into the newly built Kyoto Airport. It was likely more expensive to do so, but the girl obviously didn't care, and Sombra stepped out of the taxi, watching Lena treat the omnic driver as though they were just another human worker. Strange girl. Omnics were just machines pretending to be alive. Nothing more than convenient tools for manipulation and war. Sombra knew this better than anyone.

'Her flight's on time.' Sombra checked a screen projected from her internal network, connecting to the internet that was quite powerful around the flying hub.

'Wicked. It's been a while, so, I'm a little nervous…'

'Seems like you two are just fine. Which is so messed up.'

Lena turned to Sombra, raising a brow, and the hacker realized her mistake.

'You creeping on my texts?'

'What can I say?' Sombra answered with as much disinterest as she could. 'It's like my own private drama. You, Spider, and this Emily chick are kinda interesting when I'm not hacking into the U.N.'

Lena laughed a bit at this despite her cheeks flushing a bit.

'Yikes…'

'Yeah.' Sombra went all in, perhaps to hide her own embarrassment for being so intrigued by this girl. 'Those sexts are pretty steamy sometimes. Emily's got a nice pair.'

'Okay.' Lena scowled. 'You really shouldn't be doing that. I don't care if you see what I send, but leave Emily alone.'

Sombra shrugged, feigning indifference again.

'I'll do whatever I want, Girlie. Price you pay for harbouring a criminal.'

'That again…' Lena frowned even more.

Sombra pushed into the airport thereafter, questioning her reason for staying with Lena to begin with. The building was a mass of people and omnics, but Sombra was used to this kind of crowd. She frequently made use of it for her own selfish purposes. Hard to track the source of a hacker when there were so many people. Most of the time, anyway.

'Hey! Wait up!' A flash of light, which barely fazed the crowd whatsoever, and Lena was beside her again.

'Gate twenty, by the looks of it.' Sombra indicated without missing a beat.

'Okay.'

Such a bizarre girl. Sombra's conversation with Spider a little while back made a little more sense now. It was during one of the rare occasions that Widow had been staying at the base in between some intense missions assigned to her. She was warming up her body and mind in the shooting range, her top score in the new facilities remaining unchallenged, only the cowboy and washed up old lady coming close to her rank.

 _'Lemme get this straight: you and "Tracer" are still sort of a thing?'_

 _'I hardly see how that could possibly be any of your business.'_

 _'Come on. We go way back. I'm just curious.'_

 _'Knowing you, the answer has likely been derived in some fashion already, no?'_

 _'Heh. Got me there.'_

 _'So, what's the point of this conversation? Do tell.'_

 _'I like you way better than before, Spider. So sassy! Hahah!'_

 _'Only to insects foolish enough to crawl into my web.'_

 _'Oh? That mean you're just savouring two little flies before biting off their heads?'_

 _Widow finally made eye contact with Sombra, then, and the hacker could recall being chilled by the gaze, the woman's capabilities not lost on the hacker. She could break Sombra before she even blinked. Even translocating might not save her. Freaky._

 _'…She is much more than a mere plaything, if someone like you could possibly understand that.'_

 _'Yeah? How so?'_

 _Widow smirked, turning away to hang up the practise rifle._

 _'You come from a world of darkness, do you not?'_

 _'Huh?' Sombra's back went up. How could Widow possibly know anything about her past? It was all but erased._

 _'Please. It is quite obvious.' She paused just long enough for Sombras to regain herself. 'Imagine a hand piercing that same darkness and putting its very safety on the line for you. Why, I doubt I need to expound further.'_

 _Sombra had grit her teeth, but smiled regardless, hoping for one final jab._

 _'Yeah. I get it. What other reason do you need to let "the hand" fuck you, right?'_

 _A chill ran Sombra's spine as Widow walked past her, leaning down and whispering in her ear almost seductively._

 _'No. I am letting my hero_ fuck _me…willingly.'_

 _Sombra remained frozen even as Widow's steps faded. When was the last time she was so stunned? So angry? So frustrated with everything? Yeah. She could still feel the rough wall on her hands and her cheek mashing against it in regular intervals, mouth clenched so tight her teeth cracked._

 _'Boop…' She had muttered. 'Boop. Boop. Boop…'_

'Emily!' Lena called out, literally running to the redhead, picking her up and spinning her around clumsily, her bags toppling to the side. They kissed for a long time, as if both women wanted their faces to become closer somehow. It was a spectacle, and some people seemed to recognize Tracer but kept their distance while pointing and beaming.

'Hey, there, pretty lady! I feel like it's been forever!'

'That's because it has, Luv!'

'Did you cut your hair?'

'How can you tell? It's always short to begin with.'

'Oh, I can tell! Hahah!'

Well, this was awful. Sombra was ready to make her exit when Lena's boisterous voice made her flinch to a stop.

'Hey! This is Sombra. I told you about her, remember?'

'Yes! You're the troublesome one, huh?'

Sombra grinned, but was a little thrown by just how beautiful this Emily chick was. She had her grossly pretty red hair in a messy ponytail, a frilly, loose white shirt, and beige short-shorts that looked a little too good all around. Her rack wasn't any less distracting, and her face was angular in all the right ways. That wasn't even mentioning her surprisingly sultry eyes. Lena couldn't have been luckier. Seriously; Spider and this Emily girl? Really?

'Yep. That's me.' Sombra wanted to leave. She hated this irritation that was throwing her normal game off.

'A hacker, huh? That's pretty impressive stuff.'

'Someone's gotta do it.'

'This one flirt with you yet? I can see you being her type.' Emily rolled her eyes, nudging Lena who made a sound of exclamation.

'We made out at a concert once, yeah.' Sombra winked, and Emily only sighed in exasperation.

'W-we weren't dating at the time! It was during out little break, a-and I was lonely, and it was a party, and…!'

'It's fine, Lena Oxton.' Emily continued to huff. 'It's not like _that_ will be enough to push me away at this point.'

Sombra felt her veins surge, and she lashed out before she could reel herself in.

'Obviously, if fooling around with Spider on the side isn't a problem.'

Emily's face became serious instantly, and she cocked her head slightly.

'Ah. So, that's what it is.' She sniped back, although her words only held more impact when she went on. 'You're jealous. Interesting.'

'Huh? Sombra? Jealous? I don't know about that, Luv.'

'You really can't tell?'

'Not all of us are psychics.'

'It's just body language, silly.'

'Yeah. I'm gonna go now. Nice meeting you, Red.' Sombra decided sarcastically. Enough of that. This lady of Tracer's should be a freaking detective if she could nail Sombra down that easily considering how adamantly she usually hid any such feelings. True, she was out of sorts because of Lena, but it shouldn't have made her _that_ easy to figure out.

'You sure, Luv?'

Sombra waved behind herself, exiting the airport and hailing a taxi the second she could. She made her way back to the hotel and went to the bar, greeting the man behind the counter with a nod and ordering a shot of scotch. Then another. She tapped her fingers and frowned, leaning back in her chair and savoring the second glass, swirling the liquid around delicately.

It was just past noon, with only another hour or two before the festival really started getting into full swing. The traffic was terrible. Despite all this, Sombra contemplated returning to Overwatch's base in Korea. Her irritation with just about everything was becoming stupidly annoying, and getting away from Lena and the rest of girls seemed like a reasonable idea.

'A glass of Chardonnay Icewine, _please_.'

'Spider…' Sombra hummed, noting the presence of the incredible woman as she sat down next to her, a simple but terribly distracting black outfit covering her form. 'Not holding back on the expenses, huh?'

'Why should I?' She grinned, taking hold of the small glass and pushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. 'I've earned it.'

It was like night and day. Amelie Lacroix, save for the trippy skin and practically robotic eyes, had returned, yet she was stronger and demanded more attention than she ever could have before. She had survived hell, and it would take much worse to bring such a woman down now. Sombra used to tease her without mercy, but now, even she second-guessed herself.

'Hah. In that case, I should get one, too.'

'Perhaps you should.'

Sombra meant it as a joke, not having done _that_ much since her triumphant display against Nemesis back at Overwatch Gibraltar. Sure, she was the one called when firewalls had to be erected or dismantled, or information about a client or target needed digging up. But such things were like breathing to her. Hardly worthy of praise. Sombra herself would admit that. Spider put her life on the line constantly; alongside Tracer and the rest. Sombra was perfectly fine lurking in the shadows, her exit always prepared should she need it.

So, why was this time different? Why was she even on this dumb vacation?

'Your quips have been lacking as of late.' Widow observed, taking a long sip, her slender neck moving with a few gulps.

'You know how it goes. These girls can be a little much for emo kids like us, right?'

'Hm.'

Sombra waited for Widow to say more, but she wasn't one for a grand montage of words to begin with, so, the hacker went on.

'Blinky went to get the Emily chick. She's hotter than any photo _I've_ seen. Wonderin' why you didn't go with.'

A lingering pause before any form of answer came.

'…Emily and Lena belong together. I am simply a passing notion.'

'Yeah?'

'Yes.'

Sombra didn't believe that, but she wasn't in the mood to test Widow either. She approached from a different angle instead.

'But you and Tracer had a thing, right?'

'We have an arrangement, yes, although I am tiring of repeating myself. Your fixation is suspect.'

'I just don't get it, okay?' Sombra downed her drink, slamming the glass down harder than she meant to. She took a second to gather herself, and reunited with her joking intonation. 'Talon wasn't exactly a fun time, am I right? They messed you up good, but somehow you're here with a squeeze on the side, a career in…ballet! And a glass of Chardonnay? I mean…what?'

'It was not a simple matter, as you're aware.' Widow leaned back in her chair, sipping the rest of her glass and closing her eyes for a period of time. 'However, the first step to recovery may have been when I decided to simply stop feeling pity for myself.'

'Pity, huh?' Sombra's lip twitched.

'My life is my own now. I took hold of the opportunity and never released it. I suggest you do the same.'

'Hah!' Sombra almost spat. 'Do you even know me, Spider? Since when have I ever been pathetic enough to feel sorry for myself?'

Widow stood up, paid the barkeep, and sent a wave of déjà vu through Sombra as she passed her by, a whisper flowing between them.

'Every time you hide your rage with a comedy of errors.'

The hacker was left alone then, and for once in quite some time, she stayed silent, fixated on a speck on the ceiling, sparks of pulsation coursing through her veins.


	85. Bonus V: Pharah

Pharah

One of Fareeha's favourite things to do when traveling was to go for an early run around the city she was currently stationed in. Despite the "activities" from the night before involving a certain Korean idol (those same events causing the young woman a sizable amount of confusion and anxiety), Fareeha managed to wake up before the sun was more than a blip in the distant horizon. She could get a true feel for a city on such private expeditions, and valued them more than most would be able to understand.

The world was no longer a terribly quiet place, in most instances, but Kyoto seemed to value a certain amount of tranquility until mid-morning when the hustle and bustle of the intense population began to take over. Thus, Fareeha revelled in the pale blue atmosphere, making her way past small temples and over abandoned train tracks that remained, perhaps, to simply hold fast to roots that shaped such a historically important place. The birds overhead. The rare sighting of a car. An old man hunched over with his hands cupped behind his stomach, observing Fareeha as she jogged by, her breaths controlled and purposeful.

' _Good morning_.' She butchered in Japanese, surely, but the smile upon his face from the effort worth any embarrassment.

Fareeha continued on, navigating through little alleys and next to pretty parks. The world could still be beautiful. She had to remind herself of this every so often. Humanity wasn't a lost cause just yet despite the visions of hell she had endured next to an angel.

Ah. And there it was. Inevitably, Fareeha's mind wandered to Angela Ziegler. Mercy of Overwatch. Her partner and lover for just over a year now. In the beginning of their relationship, Fareeha had considered the fact the initial intense emotions would dwindle, as many claimed they would, but even after all this time, no such thing had occurred. No. Truly, Fareeha would claim she treasured and valued the woman even more than ever before. Perhaps those that had doubted such a reality hadn't found their true love, and were merely settling for mediocrity as far as their own happiness went.

Fareeha's pace quickened.

She was full of nerves at the thought of Angela lately. It had been quite some time since she was _this_ panicky around her. Perhaps that's why Fareeha had allowed such a bizarre thing to happen between herself, Hana, and Angela. If she were honest, it wasn't as bad as she thought it might be. As always, Angela handled the event with grace and a clear mind, making it about Hana's personal mending rather than a case of potential infidelity. Although Fareeha couldn't see everything clearly, she somewhat revelled in the idea of her and Angela working together to show the young girl a pleasant first time as far as sexual endeavours went. At the very least, it was better than Fareeha's, and the young woman was satisfied with that. She was, of course, still fiercely possessive of her Angela, but it seemed Hana stayed within the parameters outlined, and therefore, the entirety of the exchange remained sound.

Fareeha blushed, shaking her head a little as she rounded a corner and navigated through the old part of Kyoto, the space maintained for tourists, primarily.

Thinking about it all logically was how she came to terms with the idea that she was involved in something so lewd. In her younger days, she was appalled by the mere mention of such things. She recalled Josiah asking if she would be interested in one of her colleagues joining them for some fun. His disappointment at Fareeha's resounding "no" was deafening.

Perhaps it was due to the controlled atmosphere and the individuals involved. Fareeha cared about Hana, like a younger sister at this point, really, and she simply had difficulty saying "no" to Angela unless she was being completely outrageous. This request bordered on that, but Fareeha was too tired to think overly critically of the suggestion, and if she were to be even more honest with herself, it _still_ has been some time since she and Angela had made love proper. Therefore, her state of arousal at _anything_ involving Angela in such a way could have swayed her in manners she normally wouldn't be.

Yet, she and the love of her life hadn't been able to do much more once Hana fell asleep. It was maddening.

Fareeha needed to stop thinking about such things. Her body was heating up more than it was from the run already. She came across a charming park within the old part of Kyoto and took a moment to herself, absorbing the morning sounds around her and easing her breathing into normality for a time. Angela had hinted at wanting to join her for such excursions, and Fareeha's heart fluttered at the idea. She would enjoy this piece of heaven few got to enjoy. This isolation from the speed life demanded from most. In exchange for showing her girlfriend such benefits morning jogs had to offer, Fareeha, herself, would enjoy a new sight; Angela in running gear.

That's it. She needed to pounce upon any chance she had to be intimate with that woman…

But even that seemed difficult considering what she intended. That is, the source of her anxiety around Angela Ziegler. She hated that the doctor seemed to recognize that something was just a little off about Fareeha. She was kind enough not to pry, but Fareeha doubted she could hide her intent well for much longer. Fortunately, she didn't intend on waiting another day. In actuality…

'Hah…' Fareeha breathed out slowly, the air catching in her throat. A terrifying notion if ever there was one. Her mother's voice over the phone shook her nerve upon the umpteenth reflection.

 _"Are you certain, Fareeha? It is no small thing, you understand."_

 _'I do. I've given it months of thought. I cannot convince myself otherwise.'_

 _"Is it necessary though? These days, there's an argument against such old-world rituals."_

 _'Because we are both women, you mean?'_

 _"…Not entirely. Angela is a fine individual, and a sound choice, but you are happy, are you not? Why risk tarnishing that?"_

 _'True…'_

 _"Has she hinted at wanting such a thing?"_

 _'Well, no.'_

 _"And you've never been one to dream of that sort of event, like some girls."_

 _'…No.'_

 _"Then why?"_

 _'Because…I love her. And I want to show it…forever.'_

 _"And you believe this would make Dr. Ziegler happy as well?"_

 _'I-I don't know.'_

 _"Then I suggest you find out before doing anything…rash."_

Was she being rash? One conversation from her mother unravelled months of contemplation. Perhaps it _was_ foolish. Pointless. Prideful, even. Fareeha began running again, shaking her head and finding a rhythm that worked for her. The sun was beginning to come up, and the city was already becoming livelier. She made it back to the hotel, greeting the workers and making her way upstairs for a much-needed shower. She gained access to her room and was a little thrown to find Hana playing on her phone upon one of the beds, her milky-white legs catching Fareeha's eyes before she turned away, noting the shower was running.

'U-um…' Fareeha stammered, cursing her luck.

'Oh! H-hey!' Hana flipped up, sitting cross-legged and beaming, if a little forcibly. 'Brigitte went down to the gym, and Angie is in the shower. Hahah!' A beat. 'You're pretty sweaty, huh?'

'I-I am…'

Another pause. Fareeha was screaming inside. She was still _terrible_ at awkward scenarios like this. Thankfully, Hana was apparently capable of handling herself fairly well. Perhaps her social experience in general was just that much higher than Fareeha's.

'So, yeah. Last night was kinda amazing.' She blushed cutely despite trying to sound confident. 'Um… _you_ were super hot. Angie was crazy sexy. Good times all around?'

Fareeha scratched the back of her head, pacing to her side of the room and pretending to filter through her bag.

'Er…yes. Perhaps. I'm…not sure.'

'Oh. Really? Are you mad?'

Fareeha looked up, and was taken aback when she saw how concerned Hana appeared. She _was_ cute. Almost too cute. It nearly made Fareeha jealous since Angela had always expressed a tiny bit of interest in the girl. Fareeha was _not_ cute. Never would be. Would Angela ever get tired of her "masculine" appeal and prefer someone like this?

'I just…am not one to engage in such things. I was…caught up in the moment, perhaps.'

'Yikes…'

'But I do not dislike you!' Fareeha tried to compose herself. 'And it wasn't exactly…awful. I'm just…still processing everything. I'm not sure how to feel.'

'Right. Right.' Hana laughed nervously. 'Um…I'm sorry? Jeez. I feel like an idiot now.'

'No! Don't!' Fareeha fumbled, and just then, as always, Angela came to her rescue.

'Fareeha? Is that you I hear?' She asked in her deliciously thick accent.

'Y-yes!'

A pause.

'I imagine you need a shower after your run?' She called out, her voice echoing in the washroom.

'I can wait!'

Another beat, and Hana shrugged apprehensively.

'No. You shall not. Join me.'

It wasn't a question. It was a demand that didn't wish for any other form of rebuttal. Hana giggled.

'I'll um…go get breakfast or something.' She beamed, nudging Fareeha with her hip. 'We can talk later, if you want, kay?'

'Understood…' Fareeha waited for the door to the room to click shut and then exhaled slowly, sweat dripping down the sides of her face. She entered the washroom, steam having already filled the relatively tiny space. She sluggishly wiggled off her sports bra, and gripped at the rim of her tight shorts, swallowing apprehensively.

'It's funny.' Angela started from behind the curtain. 'I can sense your presence like no other. I can just…feel you.' She giggled, water splashing about her as she, perhaps, washed her hair. 'There's a scientific explanation, of course, but it's curious, isn't it?'

'I know what you mean…' Fareeha admitted, something tugging at the corner of her mouth.

A pause, the sound of the shower a nice distraction.

'Well, are you joining me or not?'

'Should I?'

'Yes, Fareeha. I would like that very much.' Angela answered in a more frustrated tone.

Fareeha tugged her shorts to the ground hastily, pulling the curtain to the side and blinking back a wave of endearment upon seeing Angela, her hair slicked back and soaked, droplets cascading down her beautiful body, only slight scars prevalent in various parts, like stretchmarks, outlining precisely the toll she had put her form through for so many others. Still, she was breathtaking, every bit the angel Fareeha could finally recognize her to be when she first saw her in Iraq after so many years.

'Don't let the cold air in now.' She smirked, watching Fareeha closely even for her.

Another moment passed and they were within intense proximity, heat radiating from both of them as Fareeha felt the warmth of the shower's water drip about her.

'Hello, there.' Angela smiled earnestly, speaking with affection reserved only for Fareeha.

'Hey.' Fareeha grinned, trying to relax. It was a task that proved more difficult than ever as Angela squeezed some soap into her hand and began lathering the taller woman's shoulders, collar, and then breasts. It was immediately arousing, and Fareeha muddled the urge to squeak with pleasure.

'Mind elaborating upon your source of anxiety?' Angela asked without reservation. She wasn't one for mincing words, most of the time, and Fareeha half-expected such immediate interrogation. Angela could tell, of course. With but a glance she could see the worry. They were that close now. A blessing and a curse. Still, Fareeha couldn't discuss her one source of worry, and thus, prayed discussing her other would satisfy her lady's curiosity.

'I felt strange around Hana.'

'Oh! Heheh!' Angela laughed, continuing to service Fareeha, mercifully not touching between her legs but her fingers still effective enough everywhere else as it was. 'Yes. That's to be expected.' She giggled again nervously before proceeding. 'I apologize. She is much more mentally fragile than we could have suspected. It was…therapeutic, believe it or not, for her to experience such a thing. That physical closeness assisted her in releasing some lingering doubt and potentially dangerous longing. I intend on providing her with some further consultation, if possible, before we embark upon our next adventure, you and I.'

'Oh…' Fareeha's whole body tensed, and Angela went on, for clarification.

'Nothing like last night, my sweet, sweet Fareeha. Verbal discussions and suggestions for coping with her own source of anxiety.'

'I-I see.'

Angela massaged Fareeha's lower backside, then, squeezing her hungrily and looking up seductively as she did so.

'Mm. I fear I'll never tire of such a firm, shapely form.' She complimented, which Fareeha wanted to accept, but she wasn't one to hide too much from the woman she adored beyond reason.

'…You wouldn't prefer me smaller? Daintier?'

Angela squinted, smiling condescendingly practically.

'Like Hana, you mean?'

It sounded foolish when spoken aloud. Fareeha blushed, and Angela continued to show her grace by not ridiculing her.

'Would I entrust my mind, body, and soul to her? My deepest wishes, desires, and thoughts? Travel across the world with her? Lean on her with every fibre of my being when I previously never dreamed of doing such a thing?' Angela cupped Fareeha's face in her hands, her thumbs stroking her cheeks tenderly as her voice whispered more. 'No, Fareeha Amari. Only you. It will always be only you for as long as you accept my feelings.'

'I-I know…' Fareeha grimaced in annoyance with herself.

'Then please, do stop doubting yourself. Truly. Although I am not one to talk at times, I suppose…'

'Heh. These emotions are like glass cannons.' Fareeha would compare and contrast. 'Unimaginably powerful, but ever fragile at times.'

'Indeed.' Angela brought her lips closer, and Fareeha's chest flipped even now, after all this time, at the thought of kissing this glorious woman. She brought her in with one arm around the doctor's waist and held her head with the other, angling her face and pressing her lips into Angela's fiercely. She consciously focussed on the breasts melding into her body, the taste of Angela's tongue, and the way her legs entangled with Fareeha's own.

'Oh…That was so needed.' Angela uttered, now deciding it was time to "clean" between Fareeha's legs.

'It was.' Fareeha agreed, loving the sensation of Angela's knowing fingers caressing her source of longing. She was more than ready, and Angela recognized this, biting at her lip sexily.

'I'm glad I'm not the only one.' She hummed, taking Fareeha's hand and guiding it to begin reciprocating the favour. It was reassuring to feel just how wet Angela was, and not only from the shower itself. Fareeha's confidence soared, and she inwardly chastised herself for being so insecure. She slid into Angela with ease, the woman twitching and gripping her lady's arm for support.

'A-ah…I'm nearly already there, believe it or not. All the lathering prior virtually put me in place…' She reddened, and Fareeha bit at the sides of her mouth, removing her hand to a selfish whine. 'N-no. Oh, don't stop.' Angela huffed like a spoiled girl.

'Turn around.' Fareeha ordered, and Angela's eyes widened, always excited by the authoritative tone the taller woman was more than capable of at times. She did as she was told, and Fareeha touched her back, pushing her so she bent over slightly, her hands pressed against the far wall of the shower and her behind thrust out.

'A compromising position if ever there was one…' Angela said quietly.

'But a view I can appreciate vastly.' Fareeha went to her knees and began eagerly, pushing her tongue in deep and holding Angela's trembling legs as she worked her over, the woman moaning openly without any form of restraint. When was the last time they could be so frivolous with their desires? It felt like too long ago. They had helped so very, very many on their journeys, but perhaps they needed to focus on helping themselves just as much at times. This was like a salve upon Fareeha's soul. Such intense honesty and vulnerability offered relief to fears that clutched the woman's heart. She loved Angela Ziegler. That's all she needed to know. That's as complex as it needed to be.

'O-oh, God…' Angela gasped. She was close. Seconds away from a release she must have craved just as much as Fareeha. She was tight around Fareeha's tongue, convulsions already beginning and her knees bent inward. Her weight shifted, and Fareeha took hold of her, hastily switching positions and placing Angela upon her thigh, reaching around her front and entering her with her fingers again, thrusting deep as she squirmed in ecstasy, likely doing everything in her power to hold the explosion of pleasure for as long as possible. Fareeha gripped Angela's breast, the swollen, hardened tip tempting but too far from her position to consume as she wished. Instead, in a strange high of eroticism, Fareeha angled the pretty pink toward Angela, and she sucked upon it herself, the brief act surprisingly stimulating beyond the taller woman's expectations.

'Fareeha…' Angela groaned. 'F-Fareeha…!' She slurred before digging her nails into Fareeha's legs and muffling her cries of rapturous fulfillment. The satisfaction Fareeha derived from knowing she delivered such joy was unparalleled, especially considering she had done so for the person she valued most in the world.

'I nearly forgot how…talented you are…' Angela spoke dumbly, her glazed over eyes somehow still appealing.

'Ability fueled by desire, I think.'

'How humble of you…'

'That felt more intense than usual.' Fareeha helped Angela to her feet, the woman still seeking her support to remain stable on her feet.

'It's been too long since our last…session, I suppose. I truly missed you.'

Fareeha swallowed deeply.

'I missed you, too.'

'I just need a moment, but then I will be more than willing to return the favour.' Angela said with a bit of effort.

'Oh, you don't have to.' Fareeha refused politely despite her groin practically burning with want.

'I'm aware I do not have to, but I certainly wish to.' Angela placed her hands on Fareeha's chest, resting her head a little higher. She began giggling suddenly, looking up mischievously. 'And what was that, exactly?' Angela asked in humour.

'Uh…what?'

She encircled Fareeha's breast with her finger, causing the dark centre to become erect.

'A new fetish we have discovered, perhaps?'

'I…'

'It was rather different, but somewhat exciting being encouraged to suck upon my own body. Heheh!'

Fareeha's face heated, and she diverted her gaze.

'It was spontaneous, to be honest.'

'I didn't mind.' Angela encouraged, her hand beginning to stroke lower upon Fareeha's body, navigating closer and closer to her unfinished desires.

'Hello?' Brigitte's voice called out from within the main room. 'You still in the shower, Angela? Or is that Fareeha?'

Angela clicked her tongue so loudly Fareeha thought surely her closest friend would hear it.

'A rain check it is, then. I promise I will pay you back properly, Fareeha Amari.'

Fareeha almost refused to accept the offer, but was finally beginning to learn how to handle the woman, and therefore, simply nodded.

'I'll hold you to it.'

'Please do.' She smiled back. 'One minute, Brigitte! Fareeha and I are merely swapping places. I'll be out momentarily.' Angela gave her lover a wink, and then climbed out, her body too irresistible to not stare as she disappeared to the other side of the curtain.

'Oh, and I need to go out for but a moment, Fareeha. I shouldn't be terribly long. A couple of hours, perhaps?'

This was news. The festival was beginning shortly after noon. Where could Angela possibly have to go?

'Where?' Fareeha asked, a small bite in her voice.

'That's a secret, dear. I ask that you simply trust me. I want it to be a surprise.'

'I'd rather just stay with you.'

'Oh, and I love you for it, but please humour this silly girl's request. I shall be with Amelie, if that helps ease your mind.'

Fareeha thought it over, still disliking everything about the notion. She had learned to trust Amelie after everything they had been through, but a part of her still hesitated to leave her princess in the woman's care without supervision. Nonetheless, she would have to put her pride and possessiveness aside. Angela wasn't a fool. She was arguably even more experienced than Fareeha at surviving in many circumstances.

Angela pulled the curtain aside abruptly, startling Fareeha as she reached in and touched the woman's face, stroking the tattoo that rested beneath her eye.

'I'll return as quickly as I can. This was something of an impromptu decision, but I _do_ believe you will approve.'

Mysterious. But fine.

'Okay. I'll see you later, then.'

Angela smiled girlishly, kissing Fareeha one last time before seemingly departing not long after quickly drying her hair.

Fareeha completed the task of bathing shortly thereafter, allowing Brigitte to jump in immediately following her exit. She went through her suitcase, trying not to be slightly annoyed by the fact Angela was going somewhere without her during _their_ vacation, and put on a simple black tank top with jeans (an outfit she favoured more often than not). She tinkered with her phone a bit, sighed, flipped through images she had made an effort to take of her and Angela during their travels, and felt her heart simply ache. They spent so much time together that being apart was like missing a limb. Fareeha was incomplete without the woman. She was her other half. Angela claimed she had similar sensations apart from Fareeha, but why was this doubt continuing to creep into her? Was it because of the monumental step she was so nervous about taking?

Fareeha lay upon the bed, staring at the ceiling listlessly and feeling particularly silly for leaning so heavily on the other woman. It wasn't fair, and she needed to remember what it was like on her own. She had been content then, hadn't she?

'Hey.' Brigitte was out of the shower, a pair of yellow panties clasping tightly to her pretty form. She adjusted a matching sports bra, her bountiful chest tantalizing without her realizing it, maybe.

'Hey.' Fareeha responded, trying not to sound overly forlorn.

'You alright?' She asked.

'I'll be fine. Just being selfish. I should enjoy my time with you as well, really.' Fareeha figured out just then. She _did_ really miss Brigitte. She sat up, observing the usually peppy girl exhale deliberately. 'But…what about you?'

'Me?' Brigitte snickered. 'Oh, you know. Same ol' same ol'.'

Fareeha could hear it. Frustration. Enough about her, Fareeha needed to support her friend who had been nothing but wonderful before Fareeha and Angela had decided to partially leave Overwatch.

'Is there anything…you want to discuss with me?'

Brigitte initially shook her head, her pretty auburn hair swaying about her face, but then she glanced around, as if to make completely sure they were alone. She moved to Fareeha's bed, sitting upon it with a huff and shrugging.

'When was your breaking point, Fareeha?'

'Oh.' Fareeha put the pieces together and cupped her chin, searching the archives of her memory. 'Depends on the exercise, but usually I cap at around one hundred thirty to one hundred and sixty pounds, I guess.'

Brigitte blinked, stared dumbly, and then laughed heartily, like her father was so very capable of doing.

'I love you, Fareeha.' She patted the girl's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 'Really. If I swung that way, I would totally be into you. No wonder Angela fell for you. You're too cute!'

'To my credit, you didn't give me context.' Fareeha blushed.

'True. True. Sorry. You're right.'

'So, what _did_ you mean?'

Brigitte hesitated, as if losing her nerve, but went on after a moment.

'With Angela. When couldn't you settle for being friends anymore? When did you know you just…had to try for more?'

'Ah.' Fareeha smiled fondly at the memory. It felt like hours ago. It was beyond vivid in her mind. She had just brought Angela to her bed after their first "date". She was a little distraught over learning Angela might not feel anything more than friendship between the two of them, and was about to leave when…

'Believe it or not,' Fareeha grinned widely. ' _She_ stopped _me_ from walking away.'

'…Whoa.' Brigitte shook her head. 'Really?'

'Yes. She kissed me first. I had all but given up on the notion of more occurring in our relationship when, surprisingly, she seemed to push past whatever was holding her back and made the first truly, explicitly romantic move.'

'Damn…' Brigitte huffed. 'Lucky break.'

Fareeha thought about the conversation, and then touched her friend's hand, unsure of the motion, but wanting to show some level of sympathy, for she remembered the utter agony of thinking she would have to settle for nothing more with Angela Ziegler. By that point, it had really become too late. Lucky break, indeed.

'Are you…okay?' Fareeha tried again, and this time, to her horror, Brigitte's eyes watered, and she clamped her jaw tight.

'Brigitte…!' Fareeha could only think to say.

'It's fine. Really.' She hissed. 'I'm just…It's harder than I thought it'd be. I thought I could…just be with him and find contentment. But the more I see you and Angela, or even Lena and Amelie, for Christ's sake, the more I wonder what I'm missing out on.'

Brigitte breathed out stubbornly, rubbing her eyes in anger.

'Why did I have to fall in love with that big oaf? Seriously. He's just shy of triple my age! What's _wrong_ with me?'

Fareeha had no clue how to answer. She was useless when it came to such talk. She was impressed with Brigitte's admittance of affection for the amazing Reinhardt, but that only meant her emotions had grown that much. How painful it must be.

'So, here I am, in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, and I'm constantly – like, _constantly_ – wondering if I should say something or not. So stupid, right?'

Fareeha shook her head, trying to connect with the feelings as best she could and answer accordingly.

'Not at all. I've learned firsthand how powerful the heart is, and the agony you're experiencing just proves the authenticity of your affection.'

'…Yeah?' Brigitte had calmed herself, although she still seemed at odds with herself.

'Yes.' Fareeha reflected on the life she had found because she had the courage to ask Angela out and follow her own heart. She dared to dream, and because of that, her wildest imaginings came true. 'So…I think you should tell him.'

'R-really?' Not the answer she was expecting, obviously. But Fareeha recalled offering similar advice before. She hadn't changed her mind. In actuality, she was even more certain now.

'Really. Your friendship is so powerful that it will surely survive should things go awry. But I _do_ think it's time. You do not deserve to be tortured like this. Get an answer so you can move on, come what may. I will return to base for some time before Angela and I depart to our next destination, if that helps.'

'You would do that?' Brigitte smiled tentatively.

'Brigitte.' Fareeha held her hand tightly now, the other girl's grip just as powerful. 'You are by best friend. I…do not have many comrades I would claim as "friends", to be honest, mostly because I take the title very seriously.'

'Like everything else.' Brigitte jested.

'Yes. Exactly.' Fareeha smiled. 'If my support can help you in your time of need, consider my person present and accounted for.'

Brigitte laughed hesitantly, but then simply wrapped her arms around Fareeha's neck and squeezed her with all her might.

'You're my best friend, too, Fareeha. I'm one lucky gal!' She backed away, blushing some as she fiddled with the blankets below them. 'And yeah. You know what? I'll take you up on that, if you don't mind. It would mean a lot to me.'

'Then it's done. I should visit my mother anyway after this trip.' Fareeha's eyes flickered, and Brigitte picked up on the spasm.

'What's up? You two get in a fight again or something?'

'Nothing like that…' Fareeha looked about the room as Brigitte had before, and leaned in close to the girl. 'But can you…keep a secret?'

* * *

After flipping out over what Fareeha had to share for a solid few minutes, Brigitte managed to drag the other woman out and about town for a little walk while they waited for Angela to return. It was nice to keep busy, Fareeha realized, and seeing more of Kyoto – especially the closer they got to the main area where the festival was to take place – was never a bad thing. The two girls had even managed to find what Fareeha decided would be a very special spot come the evening time. It was amazing, really, how the city was literally transforming to welcome a few days of celebration. Fareeha wondered about years, and years ago, when omnics weren't around and this festival was still occurring. How times had changed, for Kyoto was rather accepting of the mechanized beings, and Fareeha supposed it was a nice thing to see.

'I still can't believe it…' Brigitte went on, sucking on her bubble tea and shaking her head, the two women strolling over a bridge as cars flashed by next to them. 'I'm just barely thinking about saying _something_ to Rein, and you're gonna do _that_?'

'I think so.' Fareeha shrugged. 'It feels right. This is a beautiful setting to do so. I just…wonder about the outcome.'

'Yeah. Angela's always been a little hard to read, you know? Even when she was coming by the house all the time back in the day, I could tell she was a bit different. Papa says she lives in a different world from most folk. Like a celebrity, right? Most of them go crazy for a reason.'

'That's an interesting comparison.' Yet, Fareeha could agree.

'But you changed her. Like a lot. It's sort of incredible.' Brigitte giggled. 'I mean, Angela was nice enough, but there was always this…giant wall between her and everyone else. Now, there's a much smaller barrier, and she smiles _so_ much more. Or maybe just more honestly? Whatever. I love that you two found one another. And I get that you're nervous, but she wouldn't have been with you _this_ long if she didn't truly adore you.'

'Still…I would hate to put her on the spot unnecessarily. My mother believes it's a pointless venture.'

'Seriously?'

'Yes.'

'Hm.' Brigitte slurped another big gulp of her drink. 'I think she's just trying to protect your feelings. I don't think most of us can get just how close you and Angela are. She's known Angela for a while too, right? She's probably scared because of how she used to be. I doubt Ana ever saw Angela agreeing to something like…that. Hahah!'

'Heh. True.' Fareeha nudged Brigitte with her shoulder, drinking her own beverage. 'To find two valuable friends for life in the organization I thought I could only dream of joining? I am a fortunate soul.'

'Aw! Go on!' Brigitte countered playfully.

'Really. Thank-you. I miss you very much during my travels.'

'Oh, same. It's sort of nutty how much I just want to lift weights and gab about everything with you. Rein is amazing, and I love him to death, but I can't talk to him about _everything_. We just aren't quite there yet.' Brigitte breathed out slowly. 'But maybe that can change.'

'You're a beautiful girl, Brigitte.' Fareeha started, noticing the way her friend burned with a slight amount of embarrassment. 'Inside and out you're attractive. Reinhardt would be a fool to refuse an opportunity at pure bliss.'

'Well, coming from you, I guess I'll have to take the compliment.' Brigitte laughed nervously. 'Hah. Thanks. I don't get told that a lot. Mama said it here and there, and guys who wanted to get in my pants definitely threw flattery like that around, but hearing it from you – from a lady who's into other ladies sometimes – yeah. It feels nice.'

'Reinhardt surely believes it as well. He'd have to be blind in both eyes not to see the majesty right under his nose.' Fareeha thought about it further, drawing from her own experiences with such legends and their fear of intimacy. 'The _only_ reasons he would turn you down would either be because he doesn't feel worthy of such happiness after everything's he done, or he would worry about your and his reputation.'

'Tch. As if I care what others think.' Brigitte said angrily.

'Agreed. But, like it or not, his name carries weight, and the idea of a man his age "taking advantage" of a much younger girl is, unfortunately, a scenario he may want to avoid.'

' _Fuck that_.' Brigitte cursed in her mother tongue, the intonation enough for Fareeha to recognize the seething anger.

'I still believe it is best – for you, especially – to say something to the man. It's become too painful for you to hold in any longer. It will begin affecting your daily routine and, at worse, your performance in battle.'

'I know.' Brigitte nodded, leaning into Fareeha as they walked back to the hotel, the beautiful colours and sights of the festival nearing its completion reminding them to rendezvous with the rest of their team sooner rather than later.

'I'm going to do it.' Brigitte clenched her fist in front of her with motivation.

'Mind if I ask how?'

The girl winked, puffing out her chest.

'Obviously I'll pin the big idiot and "conquer" him until he can't resist to begin with.' Brigitte winced. 'Oh, _shit_. He's probably huge. Like…massive. Could I even…? Yikes. W-whatever!' She waved her hands. 'One thing at a time. I was joking. Hahah! Of course. Um…maybe just…ask him on a date?'

'You have no idea?'

'It'll come to me!'

'Okay.' Fareeha chuckled. 'Either way, I'll be around. So, we can mark up a plan of attack closer to the date. A well thought out strategy never hurts.'

'Heh. Coming from an expert, I can't argue with that!'

The hotel came into view, and Fareeha's heart raced. She had managed to pass a few hours by with Brigitte, almost forgetting about Angela's disappearance she was so engrossed with her time with her friend. However, now that she was likely to encounter her lady again with certain intents, her mouth felt dry, and she prepared for the second half of the day; the next hours in her life potentially changing everything.

* * *

Fareeha could hear her voice before she saw her. It sounded like quite the gathering in her room, with Hana, Lena, and perhaps Emily's voice in the mix. It hadn't been _that_ long, but Fareeha felt her heart skip a beat upon entering the space, Brigitte not that far behind.

'Hey, luvs! Welcome back!' Lena waved excitedly, the girls gathered about Angela who was in what appeared to be a kimono adorned with beautiful colours that took Fareeha a moment to consume. The primary colour was a soft blush-pink, with white lilies decorating the rest at various points. The obi was currently being adjusted by Emily, who had her hair up in a high, messy ponytail and was squinting with a perfectionist ideal.

'Wait a second, Angela!' She demanded, the older woman flinching to turn and see who had come in.

Angela turned her neck, and smiled nervously, as if shy about her current situation. She was, as always, so very breathtaking to Fareeha, and the younger girl almost forgot to move forward she was so stunned by her lady's beauty.

'A moment, if you would.' She relented, and Lena laughed as Emily continued to give the doctor one final pat down.

'There. I think you're good. Next?'

'Oh! Oh! Me! You're really good at that, Emily!' Hana volunteered, bringing over her own kimono which had white bunnies prancing about it and a charming combination of purples and yellows.

Brigitte gave Fareeha a nudge as she went into the room, leaving Fareeha and Angela a little space at the entrance to chat semi-privately.

'You look…amazing.' Fareeha admitted, tucking some strands of Angela's blonde hair behind her ear in a showing of affection. Her updo was brilliant, and the way she had to move a little more gingerly made Fareeha wild with adoration.

'My thanks.' She blushed.

Fareeha wanted to kiss her. Oh, she wanted to hold her so tightly right then and there. But she preferred to show tact, and relinquished the thought as hastily as it came. She was so enraptured that she nearly forgot about the woman's abrupt departure hours ago.

'You took care of your…business?' Fareeha wasn't sure whether to pry or not, but curiosity got the better of her.

'Ah. Yes.' Angela looked about furtively before touching Fareeha's arm and encouraging her into the hall. 'I…am unsure if it was appropriate, but the idea has been with me for quite some time.'

'Okay.' Fareeha answered, unsure what to expect.

Angela smiled, touching Fareeha's face and stroking the tattoo around her eye.

'I've always loved this tribute to your mother and your heritage as a whole. The permanence of it is profoundly beautiful. The eye of Horus, is it not? The God of the sky in ancient Egyptian mythology?'

'Er…yes.'

'Fitting. Very fitting. You are, indeed, a Goddess of the sky when you enter the fight.'

'Nothing compared to you…' Fareeha continued to push the flattery away.

'Still, you are _my_ Goddess, and that will never change so long as I have a say in matters.'

'Agreed.' Fareeha grinned.

'Therefore,' Angela tugged at the collar of her kimono, the act immediately stimulating to Fareeha until she noted a marking on her lady. It processed a second later, and Angela was already speaking. 'Precisely where my heart is, you see? A tiny, subtle tattoo of the eye of Horus in a place only you are permitted to see, under most circumstances.' Angela giggled hesitantly. 'I…You have my heart, Fareeha. I truly don't believe that will change. Not after this long. Not with how strong my feelings for you remain. In the rare instances we are apart, I need a piece of you with me. I need it in my skin. I want to feel it. I…hope it doesn't come across as disrespectful to your roots.'

Fareeha blinked, incapable of responding immediately. Angela's skin wasn't even red from the procedure. She had already healed. Then, the tears came, and she turned, wiping them away in frustration. Her soul was touched, and Angela's hands found her arms, holding her lovingly.

'I pray those aren't tears of disappointment?'

'No!' Fareeha's voice cracked.

'Heh. Good.'

'It's…I'm speechless.' Fareeha responded truthfully. 'To know you think of me…in such a way. I…I don't feel worthy.'

'Oh, but you are. Really. How can I ever convince you of this truth?'

Fareeha looked at Angela, then, her chest hurting she loved her so terribly. The woman seemed to pick up on _something_ in her thoughts, and raised a brow curiously.

'What?' She pried.

'N-nothing…It's perfect.' Fareeha deflected. 'As perfect as the woman it has been drawn upon.'

'Ahem.' Amelie's voice called out suddenly, breaking the moment, to Fareeha's annoyance. 'I apologize, but I believe it is past due time to be on our way if we expect to have any semblance of viewership to this festival.'

Fareeha turned to the woman sharply, but was stunned into silence when she saw the ex-assassin completely done up, a red kimono decorated with gold and gorgeous fish covering her undeniably perfectly shaped body, her hair done up with a shimmering headpiece with strands strategically allowed to fall about her long, angular face.

'My. Aren't you a vision?' Angela beamed.

'The staff of this hotel would seem to agree. I thought the people in this country were more disciplined than the West. Evidently, this is not true.'

'Oi! You can hardly blame them, Luv!' Lena appeared, apparently uninterested in wearing a kimono herself and opting for her typically tomboyish attire. She zipped over to the graceful woman, cupping her chin and nodding away. 'Not bad at all!'

'Oh? So, you weren't lying about knowing how to get yourself into one of those, huh?' Emily also walked into the hall. 'Very nice. You're as bloody gorgeous as ever.'

'Please…' Amelie coloured just slightly, twisting her face about to hide her embarrassment. 'Are we planning to view the festival or not?'

'Okay, Amelie! If you wanna go so badly then we'll go! Wow! Didn't know you were so into these kinds of things.' Lena teased, and it made Amelie frown even more.

'So be it. I'll be on my way.' She began to leave, both Emily and Lena giggling as they followed.

'Meetcha out there!' Lena waved.

'Quite the group.' Angela chuckled.

'Very much so.'

'In any case, I ensured that a rather fitting kimono was procured for you, Fareeha. Shall we?'

'Oh…I'm not sure I want to wear one.'

'Naturally. I took your lack of interest in more "feminine" attire into account. Join me!'

* * *

Fareeha stared at her reflection after about twenty minutes of Angela transforming her for the festival. She was wearing a men's kimono, it's dark blue, solid colour scheming working well with her skin tone and hair (which was tied in a low, tiny ponytail). It fit perfectly. It looked better than Fareeha could have anticipated. She felt so very comfortable in the attire, and part of her wondered if she was perhaps meant to be born male. It wasn't an infrequent thought to this day.

'You're stunning, Fareeha. My knight, as always.' Angela was smiling from ear to ear, fussing over little wrinkles throughout the outfit.

Stunning. Beautiful. Handsome. She loved hearing Angela say all these things. She believed her now. It took some getting used to, but she was convinced at this point that her angel wasn't lying.

'It's perfect.' Fareeha agreed.

'An understatement, if ever there was one.'

Fareeha breathed in deeply, turning and finding Angela's shoulders, holding her with affection.

'Let me see it again.' She asked, already shifting the smooth material to the side.

'O-oh. Of course.' And Angela did the rest, her cleavage distracting. Fareeha's vision had blurred upon the first viewing, but she had calmed some since, and absorbed the piece of artwork embedded into her lady. 'You like it?' Angela decided to ask again.

'I do. Really. It's strange, but I really feel like I'm a part of you now. It's…exciting.'

'Heh. Good! Because you are in every other way, Fareeha Amari.'

There was a moment. Angela's eyes shifted, a gaze coming over her that made Fareeha swallow in anticipation. Yes. She could. Right now. She wanted to. But…

'We should…catch up with the others.' She rejected the desire with every ounce of energy she had.

'Quite.' Angela shook her head. 'Yes. Let's.'

The parade through Kyoto was already underway when Fareeha and Angela finally began to make their journey to the centre of the city. Crowds had collected exponentially since Fareeha's morning run, and it became progressively more difficult to move as they neared their ideal spot to view it all.

'I'll message Brigitte.' Fareeha offered, extracting her phone from her kimono.

'My thanks – Oh! Look at that float!' Angela tugged on Fareeha excitedly, indicating an enormous presentation, dancers in traditional masks putting on quite a show atop the massive construct. The music was brilliant, soaked in oriental influence, and the sheer volume of everyone around was almost a bit much. Still, as Fareeha clasped onto her phone, she grinned, wrapping Angela under her arm and taking it all in.

Months and months of less than ideal circumstances made it nearly difficult to fully relax and enjoy the bounty of privilege all around them, but Fareeha would try, finding herself frequently looking down at the woman within her clutch and swelling with a joy she wasn't sure how to harness still.

Angela caught one such glance, and grinned slyly, holding Fareeha tightly with both arms and kissing her cheek lightly.

'I love feeling your hands on me.' She spoke gently, her voice practically lost in the wind and conversations all around. 'They are a familiar touch I consume vivaciously.'

'A fortunate occurrence for us both, then, because I love the sensation of your body within my grasp.'

'We fit together almost instantly upon meeting, didn't we?'

'The pull was near-immediate, yes.'

'Strange, isn't it?'

'Fortunate is the word I'd use.'

'Our souls were meant to be together, I have deduced.'

'Is that a fact?'

'Scientifically it only makes sense.'

'Ah. I suppose it's hard to argue with science.'

'Indeed. You best not.'

Fareeha reflected on some of her most treasured moments with Angela Ziegler, memories archived as safely as she could manage. More displays passed them by, and while eye-catching, they paled in comparison to the light that hadn't left Fareeha since the moment she lay eyes on this brilliant doctor. She didn't have a choice. Despite what her mother had said, there was only one more course of action to take…

'I truly want to begin running with you, Fareeha.' Angela said seemingly out of nowhere. 'But I fear I'd slow you down.'

'That wouldn't matter to me. I could always go for another lap afterward.'

'You say that, but you understand how that would be discouraging as well, yes?'

'Oh. Yes. I'm sorry.'

'Nonetheless, I would be willing to endure such a slight if it meant spending those intimate moments in the morning with you during less trying times.'

'I would like nothing more.' In fact, again, the idea of Angela in running gear was strangely arousing. Fareeha decided to keep the thought to herself.

The festival was as incredible as its reputation, and before long, Angela and Fareeha managed to meet up with the rest of their group – save for Sombra – and began the difficult-but-worth-it task of tasting the various foods many of the street vendors had to offer. Brigitte, Hana, and Lena dug in enthusiastically, hands full of food within the half hour. Amelie and Emily showed much more grace, their mature and intelligent beauty something to marvel. Fareeha noted the way the two women drew quite the attention from the male gaze…when Angela herself wasn't distracting anyone fortunate enough to spot her amongst the crowd. Fareeha easily navigated the swarm of people, eventually purchasing some takoyaki and crepes for her and her lady.

The group eventually found some seating near the edge of the strip of vendors, setting up camp as the festival's music and the constant sea of people and omnics passed them by.

'This is bloody brilliant!' Lena exclaimed, her mouth still a touch full.

'Right!? Korea has festivals and whatever, but nothing like this! Heheh!' Hana agreed.

'You got stopped for a lot of photos though, huh?' Brigitte added.

'Oh, yeah. It was fine. People here are pretty good!'

'That little girl was adorable.' Emily went on.

'Oh, right! She was crazy smitten with you! Didn't care for ol' Tracer here! Hahah!'

'That's because Amelie was glaring at anyone who stared at us for too long.' Emily nudged the woman, who shook her head in frustration.

'Leering. They were leering.'

'Well, stop being so bloody pretty. How about that?'

' _Simpletons._ '

Fareeha laughed to herself, enjoying the takoyaki in particular. The sun was already beginning to set, and her heart went to her throat, a glance from Brigitte reminding her of what was to come, should she wish it. And she did. Enough to write it out and leave it on the top of Kyoto's famous mountain. Fireworks would start within the hour, and that's when she intended to…

'It's been really great to see you two again, you know?' Lena started suddenly, addressing Fareeha and Angela. 'A whole bloody year, innit? Man. Sounds a little silly coming from me, but time sure does fly.'

'Does it ever.' Angela concurred.

'I've heard quite a bit about the two of you.' Emily continued. 'Angela Ziegler, of course, I've read a few of your articles and a book or two. Fareeha Amari – Ana's daughter – you're an imposing individual, aren't you? If I hadn't been conditioned by Amelie here, I'm sure I'd be a touch intimidated.'

'Oh. She's a big softy.' Angela smiled.

'Unless you piss her off. I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that.' Brigitte chuckled heartily.

'Well, either way, it's been a pleasure so far. I'm looking forward to chatting more.' Emily nodded. She was…alarmingly beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way. Fareeha supposed she could understand Angela's harmless intrigue with Hana, because Fareeha herself found Emily suited her taste more than not. Naturally, her heart belonged to Angela first and foremost, but Emily reaffirmed her preferred sex at times, she supposed. Interesting…

'Too bad Sombra's being a sourpuss. I thought for sure she'd hang out with us.' Lena changed the subject again, not one to let the conversation slide much whatsoever.

'She's always been an enigma. Talon couldn't even tie her down, whatsoever. She refuses to be bound in any way.' Amelie lowered her voice as she went on, the noise of the festival drowning her out some. 'Her heart is perhaps even more guarded than mine was…'

'I'm sure _I_ could turn her around with enough time.' Lena laughed.

Fareeha half-expected Amelie to condemn the optimistic comment, but instead, she smirked, shaking her head.

'Indeed. If anyone could, it would be you.'

'That's all fine and dandy, Lena, but no new members to this little club, got it?' Emily sighed.

'Bloody hell, Luv; you gotta go ruin my dream for a harem?'

'Don't push it, missy!'

It had the potential to be awkward, but everyone ended up laughing out of a mixture of relief and good humour, the night descending further until the first firework exploded in the sky, the sight of the rainbow dust sprinkling downward toward earth dazzling, to say the very least. The group had managed to find a relatively spacious area to enjoy the display that took place over some water, and as Fareeha gazed upon the crowd that had gathered, their faces lit up with every sequential explosion of colours, she felt her resolve to protect the innocent reaffirm itself in her heart, her legacy's dedication to the task flowing in her veins. Human. Omnic. It didn't matter. The fight refused to end. The Black Omnics weren't going anywhere anytime soon, and Talon's threat couldn't be stopped by normal means. Overwatch existed to stop the terrorist group. It was the light to the darkness. Just as Angela was Fareeha's beacon of hope.

A nudge to her elbow made the tall woman find Brigitte, her mischievous grin telling as she nodded in the direction she and Fareeha had made there way earlier in the day.

"Good luck," she mouthed, and Fareeha bit at her lips, turning back to Angela and tugging at the sleeve of her kimono.

'Could you…come with me?' Fareeha spoke into the doctor's ear, a look of inquisitiveness returned to her and testing her courage. She had fought Nemesis, armies of omnics, and even humans equipped with heavy artillery, but Fareeha would admit that this was quite terrifying in a completely new and different way from the moment she began.

'Okay.' Angela replied almost meekly.

Fareeha held her hand, their fingers intertwining perfectly as they did since the first moment Fareeha had the pleasure of feeling the other woman's touch within her own, and they moved through the lights of the night. Fireworks erupted in sync with charming music, the collective gasping and cheering from the crowd gathered making the night already one to remember.

After some time, Fareeha found the hill that elevated any who climbed it to a lookout of the city, a tiny bench and fence to keep others from falling over the edge completing the image. It was somehow vacant, perhaps because of the distance from the main source of the festival and the multiple outlets available for a similar but closer view of the fireworks. Either way, the only variable outside of Fareeha's control had been bypassed, which should have been a relief, but sent a flurry of anxiety through the normally collected soldier.

'Oh, my…' Angela placed her hands together close to her pretty mouth. 'A pleasant view.'

She was a little out of breath. The trek was fine for Fareeha, but she should have offered to carry Angela some of the way, forgetting the difference in their physical abilities due to her own spiraling mind.

'I thought you'd like it.' Fareeha spoke automatically, searching the pockets within her kimono and tracing an overly familiar object now with her fingers. Transferring it to her kimono without Angela noticing was a task in and of itself. It contained everything she wanted to say in physical form.

She wanted to. Oh, God did she want to. This woman had changed everything. This individual had taught Fareeha how to not only love another human being with every fibre of her essence, but also love herself and give everything she had for the world around her. As a woman of battle, Fareeha's confidence was already in place before meeting Angela, but as a sexual being, she quickly understood how confused and regretful she was. Fareeha still felt the need to thank her fortune daily for meeting this spectacular soul that fit into her life so universally flawlessly. It was a cosmic shift she had no hope resisting against. Angela Ziegler a.k.a. Mercy of Overwatch, was her everything, and she wanted to commit herself to the woman and everyone around them forevermore.

'Angela…?' Fareeha swallowed, her throat dry.

'Yes?' She half-turned, the lights flurrying through the sky behind her mesmerizing.

'This…has been a nice vacation so far, hasn't it?' Don't rush it. But don't run away either.

'Oh, Fareeha.' She giggled. 'Anywhere with you is "nice". A third world country in the midst of collapse is somehow "nice" so long as you're by my side.' She squinted. 'Well, perhaps "nice" is a tad disrespectful, but you know my meaning.'

'I do.' Fareeha was more than aware of what her lady meant.

'Come closer.' Angela encouraged, taking Fareeha's hand and wrapping it around her shoulder. She nuzzled in, breathing deeply and sighing. 'Your scent…I love it so. Your mere presence calms my heart.'

'I hope you don't mind me dragging you here. I thought…you'd like the view.'

She looked up, grinning sadly, it seemed.

'I've liked the view for approximately one year, Fareeha Amari. I doubt that shall change. I appreciate the moment of solitude, however, for it was rather crowded and noisy. I hope our friends aren't concerned.'

'I told Brigitte where we were going.'

'Oh. My thanks. I enjoy our little group, to be perfectly honest.'

'Me, too.'

'…Would you like to return to Overwatch?' Angela asked, curiously.

'Part of me does.' Fareeha wanted to be honest. 'But more of me only wants to be with you and assisting your commitment to those in need.'

'I sometimes wonder if our direct involvement again would help hasten a conclusion to this ridiculous war. I hate the thought, but it tugs at my mind at times.'

'I…don't know.'

'Nor do I.' Angela huffed, pushing her head into Fareeha's body. 'Nonetheless, a discussion for another day. For now, we must consider this moment, and lock it away in our memories, yes?'

'Definitely.'

They grew silent then, but it was never an awkward moment of tranquility anymore. Fareeha massaged Angela's shoulder methodically, and small, verbal sighs of pleasure and contentment greeted the taller girl's attention. Fareeha closed her eyes, her mind twisting with all the doubts she attempted to keep at bay, and then began, her best friend's words of encouragement spurring her forward toward another reality she thought she could only ever dream of.

'Angela.' She uttered, her voice laced in affection.

'Fareeha.' Angela reflected.

'I…love you.'

Angela shivered.

'Ah. To think my heart would still leap. Perhaps it's the setting. Ever romantic. Exceedingly so, really.'

'I can't imagine my life…ever going on without you.'

'I think we've both made that quite clear to one another, considering our past adventures.'

'R-right. But I'd like to make it obvious…to the world.'

A beat, and Fareeha knew Angela was intelligent enough to put the pieces together. However, would she suspect what Fareeha had planned? Fareeha wasn't certain until she, in one fluid yet somehow painfully slow motion, released her hold on Angela and shifted onto one knee, clasping her lady's hand in both of hers as the sky exploded with a myriad of light and colours.

'Oh…my God…!' Angela's voice quivered, her eyes full of tears instantaneously. 'F-Fareeha Amari…!'

'Angela Ziegler, you've been a blessing in my life from the second we were reunited again in Iraq. I felt a surge pass through me then, and it has only consumed my very being more and more as I got to know you, learn from you, and eventually fall completely and hopelessly in love with you.' The words came more easily than Fareeha anticipated, Angela's hand quivering in her own.

'A-ah…Oh…I-I…!' Angela was sputtering. It was so completely rare for her to be beyond composure that it only encouraged Fareeha, strangely enough.

'You are my princess. I am honoured to be your knight. But I can settle for those roles no longer. My heart yearns for a commitment etched into history. I wish to make it clear to the world that you are my greatest treasure and grandest source of pride.'

She paused, seeing the way Angela's cheeks were covered in tears, and grinned happily, knowing they weren't tears of fear or dismay. No. They were so clearly tears of overwhelming surprise and joy.

'I…I want you to be my wife, Angela Ziegler.' Fareeha felt her own eyes burning now, verbalizing the desire forcing her heart into her throat as she asked the question she never thought she, as a woman, could. She extracted the tiny box from her kimono, and sprung it open, a ring shimmering with a tiny diamond so pure it shone high into the night sky. 'Would you honour this lovestruck soldier by marrying me?'

'H-hah…!' Angela gasped, her shaky breaths rapid now before she nodded fervently, sobbing excessively as she practically fell to her knees, holding Fareeha's hands and nodding over and over again.

'Of course…m-my knight. Of course, I'll marry you…A hundred times I'll marry you. O-oh…God…I never suspected…B-but I'm so…happy…'

'Really?' Fareeha grinned.

'Yes. Y-you're wife? I…It hadn't crossed my mind in some time, but…Oh. I love you so much, Fareeha. And it's so beautiful. Delicate and tasteful. You know me…so well…'

'May I?' Fareeha took the little trinket from its bed.

Angela nodded, presenting her hand and allowing Fareeha to slide the band around the appropriate finger.

'Aha…' The doctor sniffed. 'I was never one for such decorations. But this? Oh, I could stare at this for hours…'

'I'm glad you like it.'

'I adore it, Fareeha. I adore _you_. You're so…utterly adorable.' She blinked, giggling in between sobs of elevation. 'Is this…what you wished for yesterday? You wished for me to "say" yes?'

'…It was. I was…nervous.' Fareeha admitted. 'I wasn't sure if you even wanted…any of this.'

'I didn't, really.' Angela sighed. 'Until I met you. It's always you, Fareeha.' She looked to the ring. 'It shall always be you. I've known this for quite some time now.'

They embraced, Angela's grip upon Fareeha so tight it was almost painful.

'Never let me go, Fareeha.' Angela spoke softly, mirroring words she had said what felt like lifetimes ago.

'I won't.'

'Hold me…forever.'

Fareeha stroked Angela's hair, its silky texture slipping through her fingers with a familiarity so special it hurt. She tightened her jaw, and gripped her lady passionately, thanking the direction her life had taken anew.

'I will.'


End file.
